As the auto drove along the pathetically uneven roads of Mumbai, I was enjoying the pleasure of her bare skin rubbing against mine. For the first time...in my life, I thanked BMC for their roads. But the unexpected had to be expected. As I was feeding my guilty pleasure by enjoying her feel to the optimum, I felt it; a small pushing rub, or a positive sign. I rubbed a little. She rubbed a little more. Within some time, we were elevating our souls with each other’s’ touch. I couldn’t believe it!. You’ll see the prison-like facility even from the outside. That’s the face of America these days. Down here anyway.” Her voice dripped with venom, “Zero tolerance.”To orient ourselves, we took an early morning drive across the Fabens–Caseta International Bridge into Guadalupe, Mexico. A bank sign said 7:21. And 99 degrees. No border crossing problems either way. Two sleepy towns. And I was white; Lina had her citizenship papers.She and I drove to the Tornillo tents. Stopped, and stared. More

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