an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Monday, December 13, 2004

Nogales, AZ / Nogales, Sonora, end

of the road because you run out of country and into another one where the drugs are cheaper. Drove the hour from Tucson with Glenda to cross the border, as much going home as getting someplace alien: la familia de la Glendita se fue: Nana's house isn't Nana's house anymore so we work our way through the vendors, looking for a pinata for Trystan and a farmacia where I can buy the pill:

I am not buying anything y no tengo corazon I tell the vendor who tries to hug me and smooth my hair from my face when I stop to take a picture of the street: Aye, have a heart for me, one Mexican second okay, I have 25 children and you like bracelets, mira, amethyst, tigers eye, Apache tears, mira este, ten dollars put it on: he makes me laugh he puts his arm around me and smooths my hair, take a picture with me for your boyfriend: no:

a woman selling jewelry rocks an infant in a stroller, offers to be in the picture for two dollars: I don't know what it is, but I can get it for you, stop a minute, no thank you no gracias gracias no, no: You want Cuban cigars? Cubanos muy rico, what you smoke? Some Hawaiian marijuana, some Columbian marijuana, what kind you like: and in a Mexican second covered in bracelets and rings and can't get them off before she clasps another cheap chromed thing to my wrist, see model it it is beautiful on you, mira que buenito con tu pelo, you want a Mexican boyfriend I'll get you one for free:

we are walking quickly to la farmacia, she follows us down the street, her hands dripping in jewelry, six dollars, five dollars, five fifty: ask your price: ask for

Nordet at the pharmacy, seven months worth, the girl pulls three boxes from her shelf, takes pesos from her drawer and runs to the next farmacia to buy four more, I pay with my debit card, she runs off again: I've given her every cent I have:

the boy is eating Cheetos, his mother sits on the ground with his sister in one arm, a Coca-Cola paper cup in her one free hand and a box of gum at her knee, she wears a rebozo and a colorful skirt, they are indios, dirty, who knows where they sleep, the boy smiles at me and I ask if I can take his picture and his mother looks away for I am hateful right then and I know it and I know she hates me when the flash goes off and the boy smiles his bright child smile--almost laughing--and I say come here little one and give him two dollars para tu mama and she nods at me, says thank you, it is a transaction, I understand, but later am overwhelmed, should've given more, shouldn't have taken his picture, you stupid stupid gringa fea don't take pictures of the beggars:

walking out of a market we pass he falls in step with me, holds up plastic bags with four avocados and a block of queso fresco, talks to me in Spanish I can't follow, points at his smashed aguacates and cheese, and I walk faster walking away while he follows in step and holds up his bags and talking, explaining, pointing at his bags until Glenda, behind me, says no te intiende she doesn't understand you and he shifts into fluent English: oh you don't speak Spanish, eh? well I was saying to you that I've just bought myself this food and what comes around goes around, yes, and a lot of people think you want money for drugs--still walking--but all I want is for you to buy me a soda to have with my lunch. You see I'm going to eat this now, this food: fifty cents--still walking away--you give me fifty cents: no, I say (how did you choose me): No? no? stupid fucking bitch: fucking bitch:

"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

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