in Transit

1.

to the question Where are you from? say Where are you going?
use the present future tense. A present continuous.

to be passionately alive yes, all the senses refuting common sense and plunging deeply deeply. while some search for knowledge, facts. but (even now you can feel it turning) history is an earthquake, we are all born on a fault line. some of us dancing. some of us planted in place. as if in standing rooted to the earth it might stay in place beneath you. but it won't.

it is one thing to leave your parents' house, another to say, looking back over your shoulder,
it is not the body that is turned to salt.


2.

I am writing this in Western Europe. I am from the West. I was born West of here.

it is all about direction: which way are you looking?
towards the West Coast. "the Wild West." driving through the desert. climbing through,
camping in, mountains. and then the waves. the Pacific.

Turn around.

I lived for a long time in Montreal, an island city-state. the island situated within Quebec, the ambitious province that desires country-hood, but remains within Canada.

another character in the plot: "The evil empire to the south" I was south of Canadian for some time, in that other country. I lived there twice. Once in Philadelphia, my parents were there and I was there as well. I went there by boat and I learned to talk. the first words I spoke were in America. then I left.

My attitude towards national identities can be adequately summarized by the use of quotation marks. As in, thus referred to, and yet, somehow disbelieved. I will quote someone for you:

3.

what is a nationality anyhow but a bit of paper proving your worth.

there is no point in discussing that country, she would not know what to call it now.
gypsies. from the word Egyptian, yes Egypt is the place

the British thought the Rom came from. believing bohemia must be right nearby. for
this
I will cite Sir Walter Scott, for his words
are as good as any

I am whatever the Europeans may choose to call me; but I have no country

have no country.

it is most irritating that I don't have access to my books. my citations must needs be rough. let me see,
"a quarrelling people" "in a faraway country"
"of whom we know nothing"

who knows what of nothing? I used to fantasize
that I would take a ship from Montreal along the Saint Lawrence,
across the Atlantic, yes return to the Continent and on a train
roll all the way back to Prague, to see what had become
of a particular pastry shop

4.

central europe not
eastern

look at a map

5.

Canada is the largest country on the planet, and the most easily forgotten in most
summaries.

6.

a diamond bracelet sewn into the hem of a skirt
gives the fabric a heft that translates well into local currency

I have a good ear for languages.

(use silk thread, it is thinner. more stitches
to hold your inheritance in place)

we have always been merchants and experts
in exchange.

who doesn't have a past someone will pay money for

7.
everyone wants a place on which to plant a flag, I am here and these
are my colours,
but I have never been able to decide on the pattern for the flag. should there be zigzags
indicating my families' many travels, or should there simply be a blank space, something
open
to interpretation.

what would you choose for your pirate ship? always sailing from port to port, same
baggage, always thinking Here is the homeland
I will want to hold on to. how "exiled" rhymes with "escapee"
in another language,
not this one.

8.

the aeroplane begins to taxi, runway rolling smoothly into air
buoyed up by our expectations, the act of running away

I pack my carry-on with what's necessary. so little is.

9.

the past passes, it is invisible.
it is usually raining
just a little.
it is not a thing to be retraced

a lover might touch the palm of your hand
making one letter after another. no. it is past.

instead, there is the cool
month of September on the lake

the maples turn their leaves in the wind. you have chosen
yourself a country. there is no point in reviewing ruins
of the old one.

once the money is on the table, it is no longer yours. remember that. don't let
its presence distract

listen for the sound.
it is like ice, melting, you can usually not
hear it at all.

10.

you go on a journey or a stranger comes to town: these
are the only two stories. and both are stories
of place: where are you? or why are you not at home?

 

11.

mother tongue: I am using it now. can you hear me?

a nationality is not to be trusted. "they can always take my country away from me" so
you must define yourself differently, with no nationality. you must speak many
languages, you must be literate and aware of history, of its trickiness, its fondness for
disappearances.
you must learn to disguise yourself well enough that no one is able to say, upon meeting you, where exactly you are from. this is a survival tactic. it is important. no. it is essential. it is a type of paranoia. what, you think paranoia isn't justified?

don't forget who you are. or where you're from.

how fortunate, those who can change such a thing. the clear gesture
as one throws the papers, shredded, over the side,
while the ferry moves closer to Argentina.

here, I'll open the cabinet where I keep them like butterflies. here is the blue canadian
one.
a crest, some processed paper. here the red of the european. look, the photo is at the
back.
here is the pink and blue french identity card. here is my american work permit.
this for remembrance. this for forgetting.

put everything together on this map in your mind.

- Lisa Pasold