I came to Nicaragua and cried for El Salvador. That was the surprising thought gripping me as I stood, holding back tears, on a nameless dirt road in barrio Augusto César Sandino in the capital of Managua. There was no car traffic on that warm December night, and a couple of families, all wearing shorts, were enjoying the breeze while sitting in plastic white lawn chairs in front of the tin walls (lamina) of their homes...
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