Journal

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2016/09/26

AMERICAN STORIES # 1 | MR DAVIS

I sat tonight, moments ago, on the little porch in the place I’m staying in Brooklyn. Felt a part of this great city, of its mad, beautiful heartbeat. Smoked a rollie. Thought of it’s history, of its creation by the immigrants of the world. “Immigrant” – a word which has become, in Europe, a dirty, almost accusatory word. And yet here I sat in an African American couple’s house, feeling a sense of homeliness on a new continent. Feeling a sense of wonder ☞ READ MORE

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