October 25 2000 Dear Isabella, this is a postcard from New York I miss you I hope I can see you soon (Poem of the statue of liberty)
I lay in bed with my arms crossed and in between them i hold a postal card with the image of the Statue of Liberty on one side and a poem on the other. I close my eyes and breathe in and out slowly. I whisper the words of the poem : “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
I sit up and look around the room, everything was gone.
The blue couch on the corner of the room was gone, the only lamp in the house was gone and so was everything else.