What outsiders see and love about America

Mudassir became a friend during my years in Bangladesh. When someone speaks about inner fears, a silver thread connects two souls. This was in 2015, during our last meeting. He was preparing to leave for Austria, where his wife had gone first. When I asked why, he answered plainly: organization and security. Adil was my best friend in Pakistan. I met him in 2004, and we managed an industrial plant together for seven years. He often found himself caught in contradictions, a common condition under strong regimes of belief or rules. One day, I noticed that his passport was valid in every country on the planet except one, because of ideological reasons imposed by the state. “I don’t care too much about this, man,” he told me, “this is my country, you know.” We were young and imagined that one day we would look like successful men in the world’s richest countries. We built a successful Pakistani exporting company. Adil eventually moved part of his business to the United States, looking for what Mudassir had sought. I met Ken, the Western name my friend uses, in 2008. He is Chinese, from a city near Shanghai. We met while I was reorganizing the supply chain for our plant in Pakistan. He…