I am neither exile nor émigré . I just happen to be in this place, and any interpretation I might put on it now is a combination of dubious hindsight, befuddlement, and not being able to afford to leave. I’m from Jig Street. God knows how I got here. The journeys all people make are, in a sense, inexplicable. They are hardly ever the consequence of one big idea but rather of a thousand small flukes. …
-Marius Kociejowski, “Jig Street: Where the Fire and the Rose are One,” God’s Zoo: Artists, Exiles, Londoners (Manchester : Carcanet, 2014) p. 437.
