Driving through Tijuana. The road runs parallel and sometimes right next to, the border fence. Mexico side. Sheets of metal laced together. Rusted and covered in graffiti. Some sections seem to be newer; the metal is still shiny. It glints in the late afternoon light. I get a look at the other fence. United States side. Tall concrete pillars topped with hard wire mesh rectangles. Unbroken. It follows the same path as Mexico’s fence but is careful to keep its distance. Between them there is a blank space of roughly 500 yards. It has been raining, so the grass is tall and green. Delicate flowers take advantage of the open ground, stretching between and spilling over both sides of the border. I am trying to understand what it means. There are so many perspectives that could be taken as to how this scene represents the relationship between Mexico and the United States. Let your mind form is own idea about this place, this space between. Empty to the eye but overflowing with meaning. On the U.S. side, huge sewage plants process San Diego’s waste. Helicopters fill the sky like mechanical vultures, watching for any breach in the line that has been drawn. Waiting for the soul on which they can feed. We join the traffic lines following the signs to San Diego. Between the lines there are people, selling candies, plastic piggy-banks, baskets, sombreros, bird baths… Our windows have been washed twice already. On top of being washed earlier by the boys. We inch closer and closer to the place where we will leave Mexico.