Before I begin detailing my travels, I would like to describe the place I live now, the place that I call home. Rugged desert mountains and barbed wire fence outline the land. I stand on a mountaintop and see houses painted with poverty. Like a child I sink my hands into the earth, pull it up, and let it run through my fingers, not knowing if it is my land, or dirt blown from Mexico. Where I live a piece of fence which runs 1,969 miles divides two lands that seep into each other, creating a whole new world, a borderland. My home, El Paso, Texas, is as porous as a sponge, absorbing cultures that make the city what it is and has made me who I am. The man-made border screams cautions that tell you
... read more
