Photo: Dean Majd Last March, a fog took hold in my head and never left. It settled there somewhere between the moment a DHS agent asked me, “Are you Mahmoud Khalil?” and the moment I realized that I would miss the birth of my first child. The fog is not confusion. It is vigilance, a form of hyperawareness. The endless, involuntary calculation of danger, exposure, contingency. Which street, which restaurant. Which search term, which like, which comment. And beneath it, the questions I cannot

Tag-uri: DHS