When I woke up today, I lazily got rid of my comfortable and warm Chinese blankets and went to the kitchen to drink my Colombian coffee. I absently skipped through the news on my American computer while trying to explain to my Californian roommate that, despite what she had seen in films, Rio is not a jungle nor one big favela. She offered me a guacamole, a Mexican recipe, she tells me. Then I answered a few messages on my Japanese phone and lit an Indian incense in my window.

When I woke up today, I didn’t worry about the police, I didn’t show my passport as I stepped on the cold pavement of a Brooklyn street, I didn’t ask for money to buy a subway ticket.

I have a pass.

I have access.

I am free.

When I woke up today and reach towards Manhattan, the greatest city in the world, they tell me

if you can make it there you will make it anywhere

I reached towards the American dream when I suddenly got punched

right in the face

in the stomach

in the mouth

my feet got cut off

I could not walk

I was stuck

in the middle of

a civil rights protest, no

a 50’s movie horde of zombies, no

a women’s march, no

a national parade, no

an alien onslaught, no

no

no

no

I COULD NOT SEE

Five

thousand

Honduran migrants

fiercely

walking

over

me

when I finally I woke up

today

there is no such a thing
as free