The beginning of a transcription of a conversation I had with my sister driving around downtown El Paso. Y: Ita never lived this far did she? A: No, she didn’t. Y: I remember parking at that place right here… to go to Juarez [point at parking lot off of South El Paso Street] A: Uh huh… to go to Juarez Y: I haven’t been down here since I don’t even know when, man. [pause] This does look nicer though. [car blinker clicks in the background] A: Yeah, they’re cleaned it up quite a bit. Y: Then when I was a kid. So, when you would go with grandma would you go—well yeah, it was this bridge, right? A: We’d go through both bridges. But, most of the time we’d go through this one. Y: Okay. A: Which is uh, PDN. Paso del Norte. Y: Isn’t this the Santa Fe Bridge, though? Or am I…? Oh, I used to park here and cross! A: Mmm hmm. That girl walks funny, like she’s a washing machine [points at pedestrian]. [both laugh loudly] A: Yeah, this is Santa Fe Bridge. It...
Sometimes I make sense. Sometimes I make you think. Sometimes I just need to write.