barranquilla aduana

aduana. barranquilla airport customs.

relatives stand outside desperately trying to see who’s arrived. i used to talk to my waiting cousins through the slits in the glass and smell the hot humid air outside while my parents hid all of our belongings from customs agents. i had no trouble this time around. i was with my ex-aunt who is now married to a well-known wealthy man. a diplomat, they called her, and waved us through.


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About trying not to touch anything

living in a space where i am half packed, or half unpacked, depending on how you look at it; going somewhere else; wanting to write about my misadventures on a planet i don't feel like i should be on

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