To the uninitiated, the desert exists in the imagination like something from a dream: dust and sky and stars and cactus and faceless cowboys and campfires, and—beyond that—the void of a place never before seen. Those who live in or visit this dry, bright place know well its dust and sky and stars and cholla and chamisa and rabbits and desert birds and coyotes.
HIROSHIMA, Japan—Modern day Hiroshima is a bustling city nestled between rivers. Its many streets and shoulder-to-shoulder buildings contain a full spectrum of residents from businessmen to schoolchildren.
The first workers start getting up a little past midnight to prepare for another day in “el field.” About 100 men sleep on the floor of the rooms and hallways in the Sin Fronteras Organizing Project shelter in El Paso.
Like other young adults trying to make ends meet, LuzHilda Campos works two jobs, pays taxes, and tries to have a little fun on her days off. This June, the Mexican-born waitress boarded a plane at Albuquerque’s International Sunport and flew to Washington, DC.
Some call it a blue stone, a green stone, a sky-stone; some call it handcrafted, handmade or painted chalk from China. The experts call it the Native’s livelihood, the heart of the Southwest, New Mexico’s cultural identity.