She went to a public house, drank there a beer. Denied entry into a trendy looking club, she decided instead to wander the streets in search of friendly faces. Few were they and far between for many wore a sullen mien as they did drag themselves back home from jobs in banks - savings and loan. That second night, she discovered Washington Square Park, where she felt at least a bit at home. In that place as is most of Grigovia, people from all walks of life were taking the evening air, stopping to look at one another or to talk, walking dogs, playing chess, dancing, singing, being free. Erya Rovend check-mated a gentleman in ten turns then joined a group of university students heading toward Mamoun’s, a falafel shop. She discussed with them how strange it was that few Americans seemed to be aware that their country was at war (i.e. bombing targets with impunity) in five separate nations around the globe. “No one talks about such things, at least not on T.V.,” a young political scientist told her.
Erya bid the group farewell and started walking south, toward a place her folding map listed as Battery Park. On the way she paused at Wall Street, but kept walking when two heavily armed police officers started staring at her and whispering to each other. Such was her culture shock that she just then started to notice the profusion of closed circuit television (CCTV) cameras screwed into the sides of most buildings, unblinking eyes staring out on nearly empty streets. When she arrived, Battery Park was deserted but for a dozen or so homeless persons bedding down for the night. Leaning forward onto a length of cast-iron railing, Erya stared at the empty pedestal where the statue ‘Liberty Enlightening the World’ had stood until the Glorious Republic of Grigovia had bought it - to save it from the scrap-heap. Lost in thought, she was startled when a radio chirped loudly, just behind her. She turned to find a pair of heavily-armed police officers standing on a patch of darkness, a pile of old blankets at their feet. One of the officers, a male, kicked at the pile until the person sleeping therein woke up.
“No sleeping in the park, you. Get moving,” the officer said.
Clad in too few clothes for the fall weather, the painfully skinny man gathered up his rotting blankets, paused to pull up his belt-less pants, and started shuffling toward the brightly lit sidewalk at the edge of the park.
The two officers turned toward Erya. Shocked by the cruel way the officers had treated the homeless man, they caught staring at them, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“You too - be on your way,” the female officer told her.
‘No wonder the U.S. sold us its statue of liberty,’ she thought to herself as she exited the park. ‘There are not enough freedoms left here, it seems, to in good conscious justify keep it up.’
© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥
Erya bid the group farewell and started walking south, toward a place her folding map listed as Battery Park. On the way she paused at Wall Street, but kept walking when two heavily armed police officers started staring at her and whispering to each other. Such was her culture shock that she just then started to notice the profusion of closed circuit television (CCTV) cameras screwed into the sides of most buildings, unblinking eyes staring out on nearly empty streets. When she arrived, Battery Park was deserted but for a dozen or so homeless persons bedding down for the night. Leaning forward onto a length of cast-iron railing, Erya stared at the empty pedestal where the statue ‘Liberty Enlightening the World’ had stood until the Glorious Republic of Grigovia had bought it - to save it from the scrap-heap. Lost in thought, she was startled when a radio chirped loudly, just behind her. She turned to find a pair of heavily-armed police officers standing on a patch of darkness, a pile of old blankets at their feet. One of the officers, a male, kicked at the pile until the person sleeping therein woke up.
“No sleeping in the park, you. Get moving,” the officer said.
Clad in too few clothes for the fall weather, the painfully skinny man gathered up his rotting blankets, paused to pull up his belt-less pants, and started shuffling toward the brightly lit sidewalk at the edge of the park.
The two officers turned toward Erya. Shocked by the cruel way the officers had treated the homeless man, they caught staring at them, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“You too - be on your way,” the female officer told her.
‘No wonder the U.S. sold us its statue of liberty,’ she thought to herself as she exited the park. ‘There are not enough freedoms left here, it seems, to in good conscious justify keep it up.’
© JPR / whorphan / americanifesto / 場黑麥
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