The other morning, I was waiting at the Gangtok post office with my neighbour, an old tailor from Bhutan, and he said trying to renew his *permesso* is like waiting for a dahlia to bloom in December—you water it every day, but nothing happens until the sun remembers you. I tell my son in Shillong, all these forms and committees, they just make a man stand in one more queue; the market sorts out a haircut in twenty minutes, hajur. Let the honest ones sit inside the *questura* with a little patience, and maybe the rest will follow.
#citizenship
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