February 27, 2019 (vol. 127, iss. 81) • Page Image 12
…I have a vivid memory of an old photograph — I am 5 years old. I am in the park across the street from my house in my school uniform, clutching in my hands two Barbie dolls and laughing. Behind me, the metal playground stands tall and bar- ren, too hot to the touch under the heat of the afternoon desert sun. On the ground are sparse patches of yellowing grass, as if someone tried to make it grow but realized any attempt to shield...…

















































