I crossed the river about twenty years ago-I can’t be exact about the date, because I am still not sure what crossing really means, except that you can never come back. I just know that I crossed and now I scratch like a caged animal trying to claw my way out and reach the distant shore. It’s like killing. There are some things that if learned change a person forever. You cannot know of the slaughter running along the border and remain the same person. And you cannot know of the hopeless poverty of Mexicans who are fully employed in U.S. factories and remain the same person.

Charles Bowden, Murder City

We love you, Juarez.

Photos by Isaac Karner