Mission America

As the airplane set to land in Dulles, on American territory, I was coming out of the daze of my long Air France flight (which is like taking a little time off in itself) and my mind processes slowly began to swing back into action.
America, I could see the soil. Unlike Paris airport, we didnt land in a field of yellow dasies but there was something expansive and ever-stretching: American style. At the thought of reuniting with my best friend who is part of the project as well, and letting loose on the American scene in its most heated playing ground, a big content smile stretched across my face just as the wheels hit the runway sending a pleasurable churn vibrating through my chest. Touch down.

I have been to the U.S once before but it was different. Last time, I was there for my own reasons, if any discoveries were to be made, it would be a discovery of self.This time I feel like I have an immense task: deciphering what makes Americans tick, what matters to them, how they perceive what it is to be in america and parcipate. I felt the ambition to look at every American and just size them up. I got onto the shuttle to the terminal and felt obliged, intrigued, by all my fellow passengers. Middle Aged White woman, what book are you reading? Country Novel. What does that say. I strive to judge a book, quite literally, by its cover. Teenaged black guy wearing bright yellow shoes. Blonde lady? Not enough signs for her, none actually. I guess I wont be able to do this anonymously.