For Syra, Who Asked Me to Sing and Taught Me to Love My Voice; Or Girl Torpedo’s Origin Story
If you have ever stood on the side of the Pan-American Highway at midday in mid-July with a Gringa infant, one with skin so fair some of her veins look drawn on the outside, you will understand the limitations of your own shadow. And if you are standing on the side of the road because someone slit your tire at a roundabout a few kilometers back, you will question the kindness of strangers. And when two good Samaritans go bad, swiping the turquoise L.L. Bean backpack you’ve ow