After the most difficult day of my entire life up to that point, I went back to my hotel. Later, I would have other difficult days, some of which would be even more difficult than this one, but at the time, it was the worst. All day, from just after sunrise to very near dark, I had sat behind a sheet of reinforced glass with a small metal grate installed into it, circular and finely perforated like a drain catcher turned sideways. One by one, people had come into the room on the other side of the glass, and had sat down in the chair that had been set up for them, and had tried to speak to me. None had been able to, not a single one. Some had tried using their hands to communicate, raising their arms up and outwards, or thrusting them forwards, or clapping their palms to their eyes or their ears or the place on their chest where they must have felt their heartbeat. Others had only opened and closed their mouths helplessly, sitting otherwise motionless, making nothing but wet, gummy mouth-sounds, tears sometimes welling up as they did so, overflowing, running down their cheeks, over their scars. They wore mostly old, nondescript clothes, hoodies, sweatshirts, shapeless and functional items. A few wore an earring in one or both ears, a few others had polished their shoes. One man had tattooed his neck entirely black. They were all different ages, but I could already see the lines being drawn into the features of even the youngest. They had all looked so tired. That was my main thought. It was clear there was nothing to be done, not here, now, not in this place. I shouldn’t have agreed to fly out, I had thought. I had known this is how it would be. Why had I done it? Why had I let myself believe it might have been different? Of course, later I would find myself traveling to much worse places, on much longer odds, but at the time that’s not something I would have ever imagined. I would have never imagined how much more severe it would get, how much the calculus would have to change, as the years went on.
That night, I needed a drink. That much was clear to me. The hotel’s bar was quiet, almost deserted. The light was low, soft, yellow like a faded photograph. I ordered a beer and went and found a booth. I had barely raised it to my lips when a person appeared and sat down across from me. This person looked like no person I had ever seen before. Their skin was very dark. They began to speak to me.