Letter Twelve

I have no way of knowing who you are, whether we would ever have anything to talk about or any subjects in common, except that we weren’t born in Britain.

What I do know is that our cities, though they are filled with people, can be some of the loneliest places when you know no-one.

But I’m here for you. Or at least, this letter is.

When I first moved here, the buildings dwarfed me; the streets seemed impossibly busy, always filled with people rushing to get somewhere, anywhere.

And now you’re here too.

My advice is: look up. The best bits of those infinitely tall buildings are above street level. And the clouds – we’re good at clouds over here – that twist themselves into shapes like dragons and rabbits and balls of fluff. And when you can see them, the stars that show you the vastness of the sky. Maybe they’re not the same stars as you saw where you’ve come from, or on your journey, but they are worth a look. They always make me feel less alone.

Welcome to this country. Maybe its not home in the same way as you are used to, but it can be home. You and everything you bring with you: your stories and memories, your lifetime of experiences we can’t even imagine, your smiles that have seen sunrise in distant lands.

Welcome, please come in. Please stay.

Jess, London, Theatre Technician and Writer

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