
I’m Mexican by Andrea V. Garcia Robles Gil
I’m Mexican. That much I know. That much I can be sure of. Or can I? Here, in a strange land, my nationality manifests as a shield. It comes as a reflex, to protect and justify my less than perfect tongue: the brokenness of my words and the silly mistakes. It is also an impenetrable wall (Berlin?): I cannot understand them, the French and the … Continue reading I’m Mexican by Andrea V. Garcia Robles Gil