I’m writing on the train, and on the train, I’m experiencing several migrations at the same time: there’s the actual train trip, and then there’s the internal journey in my thoughts, and in those of someone else while turning the pages of a book, accompanied by other passengers…

I think about the Josefa House and it is also a place which offers multiple migrations. It is a crossroads that promotes the sharing of

an emotion,

            a meal,

            a glance

                        in the doorway

            a day

                        in the kitchen, our kitchen, my kitchen

            a cup or a gourd of maté

                        in a lounge

            a story, with a few words in Arabic, in French or in English

            a prayer for some

            a song for others

            a few oud notes

            a smile or giggle

            joy

                        on a Monday night

            unexpected meetings

            hospitality

            a ray of sunshine

                        in the garden.

Maïté