And you know, the funny thing is, I always have felt welcome. Moments that stand out include in September 2017 attempting to explain to the woman doing my language evaluation how it was I was back at the VHS Mitte trying to pick up my studies where I had left them 14 years before. „The society and the politics in the US,“ I began, „Oh I know,“ she interrupted sympathetically, „It’s a catastrophe.“ Catching the ferry to Dover last month I went through lengthy questioning from the Fortress UK border guard, and before being waved past was cautioned that I could only remain for six months, and was not permitted to look for work. Returning to Calais I was greeted with „Bonjour, merci, au revoir,“ and that was it. It feels like the doors are open here. In the US, the doors locked to the outer world all have bars which enable them to swing open easily from inside. These doors are clearly labeled with large, clear signs proclaiming „Fire exit, to be used only in case of emergency.“ Through the thickening air coughing, gasping movie goers read this and think to themselves „But I can’t open that now — it’s only for an emergency.“ They follow each other blindly, increasingly desperate in the smoke, to stand helpless, packed in a crushing mass before an entryway where two well-lighted personalities debate the price and the conditions of theater admittance.
