TE20 Migrant Mosaics

Márton Simon

Tomorrow he’ll press 12,000 more magnets with the same design under a “LISBOA” inscription. He’s thirty-three. He can’t read any of them inscriptions, but he assumes they are resort towns. He’ll never visit them. The word “memory” is emblazoned on his jacket. There’s a thing that everyone sings about, but no one really talks about. I hold it up high and show it to everyone: see, this is what I lost. We live on the third floor. Something is standing before our window, it has color, and it furiously demands meaning.

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