Exile does not begin at the border.
It begins much earlier—
in language, in memory, in the body.

This book explores exile not as movement,
but as condition—
a way of eating, waiting, loving, raising children,
and burying the dead.

Each chapter stands alone,
yet all of them share the same breath.

They are fragments of a larger truth:
that dignity survives even when territory does not.

These stories do not ask for sympathy.
They ask for recognition.

And perhaps, for accountability.