In the '70s I was in exile; every time I went back I wondered if they'd take my passport away.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
My fairy-tale life ended the moment I wanted to apply for a passport.
Once I accidentally left my passport in Nice, France, when I was on my way to Prague. Upon arriving in Vienna, after taking an overnight, and being asked to present my travel documents and realizing I forgot them at the hotel, they kicked me off the train and sent me back!
My last passport, I had North Korea, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Sudan, Liberia, Guinea... I had, like, every war-torn country in there.
Lots of times you can feel as an exile in a country that you were born in.
Well, I write in exile because I cannot return to my country, so I have no choice but to see myself as an exiled writer.
Well I don't know, I might have lost my citizenship, I don't think you can lose your citizenship though.
I do not feel an exile from America in any sense.
I traveled nonstop in 2009, so when my son popped out and my passport expired for a while, I felt more than happy just to be at home here in Canada.
So that when I came from Panama... my family was exiled in 1973 and they went to Miami.
The birds never needed passports... We always thought, the birds can go wherever they want, and we couldn't, really. The birds were very much the symbol of... free movement for me.
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