Crossposted From Under the Fig Tree
As everyone knows by now, we are what we eat. But we’re also the sum of our associations, many of them derived from museum exhibitions and film screenings.
Take old suitcases, for instance. When I think of these objects, of where they’ve been and what they contain, what springs immediately and incontrovertibly to mind are the dislocations and upsets of migration, not the free-wheeling joys of travel.
I see a battered suitcase and I envision Ellis Island and its jumble of humble, mismatched pieces piled, helter-skelter, one atop another.