Personal Narrative: An Immigrant

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As the crow flew across the sky, I felt a thick breeze of wind hit me in the face, I heard several voices talking a language I'd never heard before. I was born in southern Europe, and everyone around me was just another figure. I saw men, women, and tiny children, looking like they had been starving for quite some time. I, however did not look much different, but I guess it is the thought of more people starving than just myself. I am 14 years old, I was born in 1877, my parents have been separated from me, and my little brother just died. Back in southern Europe, I knew everyone and knew all the different religions, and the one I had to fall in to, was Catholic. I was aware that my freedom didn't matter to the people who governed Europe, but my brother thought…show more content…
The next day, I woke up in a room, there were mixed genders, so when I got up and dressed, I immediately began to look for the young boy I had met the day before. I found him, he was sitting along the wall next to an older woman who looked so much like my grandmother. Since I had realized that it couldn't be her, because she was supposedly “dead”, I realized I should just stop and ask the boy how he was. I walked over there, and the lady looked at me and said, “Alexis, is that you?” I immediately grabbed her and pulled her into my arms, it was my grandmother. She then asked where my parents were, and where my brother was. “I don't know about mama and papa, nana.. But Jose, he died a couple of days ago.” She began to cry, but all I could do was smile, because she was my grandmother, and she wasn't dead. I told her I had to go, and I would meet up with her later, so I walked down the hall after the young boy whom I had met earlier, I could see him, barely. I ran, shoulders bumping against everyone around, but I got to him. He looked at me and smiled, there you are, I've been looking for you all morning. I asked him what his name was as soon as I caught my
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