The smell of struggle, the struggle to survive in this sink full of dirty dishes and despair was the aura of the building. The no’s and yes’ all creating defeat, a definite “Yes America, land of the free home of the brave, you won again”. Why is the American Dream so hard to reach? Why do the people of this country fight everyday to reach this unattainable cloud of hope? This cloud that sits so high above the ground, floating deeper into oblivion and mystery. In the essence, this is our home yet we don’t belong here…

-I plan to write a novel one day about the feelings I have about illegal immigrants. I wrote this out one day when I was at the Mexican Embassy. My heart lives and breathes for this country but I wish that the laws were different.