Make me Invisible: Ciudad Juarez August 01, 2009 - July 31, 2010, 2018-20

I had moved back home during the recession only to find my city held hostage by extreme violence. 

 

Empty streets, abandoned buildings, the rattle of automatic weapons day in and day out, the non-stop cacophony of blood thirsty news outlets. 

Feds, military, corrupt officers, rival cartels. A ghost town overrun.

 

Three hundred and sixty-five days, ten murders on average… that's 3,650. 

Down the street while I showered, discarded at my father’s doorstep, a friend, mistaken for someone else thanks to his shiny white pickup. Perhaps if it were blue…

Every day, without fail, I would venture across the border to the empty house where I kept “my stash”. I would smoke, escape, unable to stop, not wanting to stop, believing that this was freedom.

On my way back, before the sun set, as I crossed into Juarez, I would repeat over and over, make me invisible, make me invisible, make me invisible.

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