While we walked around the city munching on pastries until dark, I slowly built a plan of action in my mind: I was going to save my relationship with New York by returning with a Copenhagen attitude.
There was a house on the way down the mountain. It had a hole in its Spanish-tiled roof. “A bomb dropped in,” said my cousin. “A lot of the houses do not get repaired.” Nathan and I wanted that house.
Deborah says she was alarmed her first days in lock up—she had never been fully alone until they threw her in solitary, the initiation for every new inmate. She was in a two by four meter cell, and she was terrified of what would happen when they turned the lights off.