At home a family sits down for dinner and thank
Jesus for it.
At some forgotten field, a Mexican man named Jesus
removed his hat, cleaned the sweat off from his forehead and silently
thanks them for his job in which he makes a dollar for every box of
vegetables he picks up from the earliest hour of the morning to the
last drop of the beautiful sun that becomes unbearable during the
midday, this is his American Dream as an undocumented worker running
away from a country that gave him no opportunities and is at war with
itself.
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