The border is a line we've agreed upon—a river, a wall, a treaty. Land that once was theirs but now is ours, and they had better not show up without their papers.
It's a line between us and them—our language and theirs. Our money and their drugs; our guns and their crime. It's a line we cross every day, enjoying the benefits of each others' culture. It's a line that once kept shifting but now is fixed in the ground. It's a line that is both distinct and blurred.
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4 comments:
You’re description is very good. Wouldn’t it be nice if some day those borders are blurred because the crime element no longer exists and both sides are able to respect the laws of the land on either side?
Yes, it would. Of course we have a firm border with Canada and not such a major crime problem. Humans just seem to love borders, from lot lines to national lines. We always have to know what's ours, don't we?
That border makes for some great literary territory.
We love borders, and we love categories, too.
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