“Julia, is everything all right?” her father said in a raspy voice. “It’s three in the morning, m’ija.” “I’m sorry. I have… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“A group of ten prisoners from Dachau, I was with them, we hid in the forest to wait for the Americans. The Germans had… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“It’s a great honor, m’ijo. We know that. I’m sure everyone in Ysleta is proud of you. But this is who you are," she… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“Again, this week as I walked on Broadway, in front of giant photographs of voluptuous supermodels at a Victoria Secret mega-store, who was rebuilding… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“I made many decisions, some awful and others brilliant, but I found ways to keep that openness in my soul that meant more to… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“I hated seeing these spasmodic upside-down chicken heads stretching to puncture my flesh. I imagined once that they reached my groin and pecked out… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“So the Juárez/El Paso area before the recent drug violence was not a bilingual, bi-national, bicultural Zion, but it was one world. One entity.… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“Rich people don’t have to have a life-and-death relationship with the truth and its questions; they can ignore the truth and still thrive materially.… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
I am in between. Trying to write to be understood by those who matter to me, yet also trying to push my mind with… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“Two weeks ago, Aaron and Isaac, I learned your mother Laura has breast cancer. My heart feels impaled. These words, so useless and feeble.… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“But Anja. I hear Anja's voice. Maybe I am insane. I hear her crying. I see her alone in the trees. I remember being… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
At Harvard, the strong and savvy and confident thrived, while the nice or shy or quaintly moral were just bit players. In Ysleta, you… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
“Julia, is everything all right?” her father said in a raspy voice. “It’s three in the morning, m’ija.” “I’m sorry. I have to talk… — Sergio Troncoso Copy Share Image
