Coming over here, mending everything that's broken

I was in the bakery this morning, and the two women working there (from Finland and Spain respectively) and I had a long grumble with each other, which can be summarised, in brief, that pandemic+Brexit+Conservative government is absolutely wretched in a very personal and specific way if one is an immigrant. I don't think much more needs to be said, apart from to say that the best thing about being an immigrant is this strong sense of community and common ground among all migrants to Brexit Island, even if we don't appear to have very much in common on paper. (The worst thing, of course, is living under a government who treats us like a punching bag that can be wheeled out whenever they're slipping in the polls and give us a few twists of the knife to remind their voting base how much they hate us.)

Outside, the moon is rising in a clear sky, the vacant lot/field across the road is bathed in moonlit mist, and inside I'm surrounded by Christmas lights and candles and cards strung up across the window, and I suppose, for now, that will have to be enough.