In 1999, I landed in America at the San Francisco Airport. I was about two years old when my dad came to pick us up after a long wait in front of the orange digital numbers, blinking and changing on the black boards. There was a loudspeaker and noisy robotic voice of a lady, announcing the comings and goings of a regular day at the airport. The chatting around me was not in my home language either. I held onto my...

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