Posting live from Guatemala City:
When he stood up to speak, his hands stuffed nervous in his pockets, his right shoe tapping anxious, I had no idea that the whole ugly mask was going to fall straight off this thing.
I guess I should have seen it coming in his eyes, in that flicker, the way he held his head.
“I am in business management in college,” Daniel says, his black wavy hair greased right back, shiny and slick, looking like any guy hanging on the back shanty streets of Guatemala City. Looking like any guy muscling down a sidewalk flanked by a gang member or two.
It jolts me awake, that these words can be uttered here — we’re sitting in the center of gang territory, surrounded by poverty. I have seen the haunting eyes, the worn faces.
There are bodyguards by the door with loaded weapons.