Star

DREAMing Out Loud: Voices of Migrant Writers, is a PEN America workshop series for young undocumented and migrant writers. This week we excerpt an anthology of their work.

Star pulled her backpack straps tighter around her shoulders. She missed the bus and had to walk to town. Her aunt Marie was at weekend mass and could not drive her. The bus passed every half an hour, and it was normally empty this early in the morning on weekends. The path in front of her was laden with salt and snow, and the cold air stung her face and seeped through the thin soles of her shoes. She walked quickly as cars drove by. Star occasionally hitched rides when necessary. This morning, she was determined to walk.

Star woke up early to make breakfast for herself. She had prepared her belongings the night before. Her clothes were faded with wear, her socks had holes in them, and the hemline of her pants reached above her ankles. She packed a camera, a wide-angle lens, a tripod, an apple, and bus fare. On the weekends, she traveled solo to places miles from home to take pictures. Star was determined to visit every town nearby. She’d visit thrift stores, bookstores, and antique stores. Sometimes, she would converse with passersby if they were friendly. Mostly, Star wanted to take photographs of what others did not notice.

Star did not plan where she wanted to go. She liked to challenge herself to leave home and travel to locations that she stumbled upon by accident. She found gloves, shoes, furniture, and books on her walks. She followed her inner compass and walked to the ends of roads, into abandoned buildings, spoke to elderly people sitting on benches, spaces closed off from the public, and forgotten items on the street. She saw herself in them as she saw her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. These places resonated with her more than people. Their vastness filled the vastness within her. Star found comfort in the silence of peeling paint and faded floorboards. Here she found the solace she could not find