Tomorrow afternoon I leave the border for Tucson, and I’m not ready. I’m just starting to learn this place, just starting my work.
The other night I dreamt that we had been blocked out of Nogales, Arizona and Sonora. We had crossed a border or wall and weren’t allowed to come back. I was crying. I spoke in fragments of English and Spanish and confusion. I didn’t want to leave yet, I wasn’t ready to go. We stood staring at the gate. All we had left of Nogales was a pile of paletas [popsicles] melting on the table.
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