“Lone men coming from the US side to see their kids grow across the fence, while they cry in their mother’s hands because they want their dad. Adults visiting their elderly parents and lovers separated who promise to see each other again.”
Manual Labor stood on the wall, his hands like windshield wipers removing the stream of tears running down his face. He hesitated, thinking of his beloved loved ones, his ninos, wives and mistresses, then stepped off, falling like a seagull diving for a fish, his body hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag full of vegetable soup.
That is really good!