On Thursday March 12th, Trump announced the travel ban, and I had to start thinking about whether I would risk never being able to work in the US again to go home for free, nationalized health care and to see my family. My mom recovered from cancer a few years ago, and I was afraid if the ban continued, I wouldn’t be able to see her if she became sick again. What once felt like fuid world borders seemed imaginary as border walls were globally built by a pandemic. That evening I went on a frst date at a trendy and still crowded New York City restaurant, Estela. We said goodbye with a wave after applying hand sanitizer. As I eagerly awaited the after text to see if he was into me, he sent me a message to go home to Norway while I still had the chance. The next morning my parents called saying they wanted me home. “I want you to be here in case you should be sick,” said my mum, Chava Savosnick. “It’s kind of scary to have my daughter on the other side of the world in these times.“ I didn’t wanna leave NYC. I’m 24 years old and getting to photograph for Reuters and The New York Times. The year and a half I was there was essentially half my adulthood. In panic, I called the Norwegian embassy, my insurance company, and bought a ticket back to Norway. I braced myself for a return to childhood, quarantined in my parents’ basement.
March Entries
