The immigration office is a tiny place near the Police station. On opening mornings, the line of people spills out and snakes onto the sidewalk.
If you get there 10 minutes before the closing time, you might find the office already closed.Come back tomorrow, perhaps you’ll be lucky.
But not anyone can afford the luxury of spending multiple days in line, waiting for bureaucracy to finally move forward. Some have to bring their kids along.
Like this little man.His name is Rachid, and he proudly writes it down on my worn notebook.He goes school and loves reading.
And this pretty princess is Nadia.She also goes to school and loves reading, she tells me. Her smile is adorable.I wish my country was nicer to immigrants. I’m an immigrant too. We’re just ordinary people - with very ordinary stories - moving where we think we’ll have a chance to live better.Como, Italy | 1991
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