Exile does not begin at the border.
It begins much earlier-
in language, in memory, in the body.
This book explores exile not as movement,
but as condition-
a way of eating, waiting, loving, raising children,
and burying the dead.
Each chapter stands alone,
yet all of them share the same breath.
They are fragments of a larger truth:
that dignity survives even when territory does not.
These stories do not ask for sympathy.
They ask for recognition.
And perhaps, for accountability.