dream of a new city, dream of a big desert. no rain today. yesterday's newspapers are strewn in muddy lumps on the sidewalks in the new city in my dream. the buildings are very big and very far apart, the parks are empty. everything is grey and brown, except the sky. there are phone booths here, but the receiver comes away from the apparatus in my hand.

ernesto and his brother crossed the border on bicycles. ernesto has seen his family once in six years, he has crossed the border twice. i didn't ask him how he did it the second time. he washes dishes and his pay isn't bad. every two weeks he sends money to his wife and children. he speaks almost no english. i don't blame him, there might be nothing lonlier than being away from your family. why add a foreign language to your sense of removal? when his mother named him ernesto, she must have known that he was designed for hard work. it's not an easy name to give a child, there are two many kinds of hard work that break you down.