How Citizens Pitched in After the Mexico City Earthquake
A down pillow, grey with dust, came down the line. I was angry at it, at how light it was, how easy it was to pass.
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“Yes, the border divides . . . but the culture of this place is of one, not two.”
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As a child growing up in a landlocked state, I’d imagined the flock of gulls as a cloud of wings, calls sounding like laughter. Now I was struggling to grasp all that we’d lost.