I put my hand on the bible. He asked me to raise the other hand and say: I swear. I swore. I just didn't want him to send me off to Guantanamo under any pretense. That instant was for me a moment of extreme lucidity. No more illusions. I live in a world I am not able to understand.Of course the customs agent was only doing his job, and his job required him to be afraid of me. His fear wounded me, and I carry it like a scar to this day. I wanted to help him, but I couldn't. The more 1 tried to reassure him, the more suspicious I grew to him.I know that I am just a speck of dust in this machine. A black leg grafted on the body.of another man. What I'm relating in this letter is nothing compared to what thousands of refugees endure, dodging death as they hope for a better world for them and their children.I've always believed that America could be a part of that world. That heart capable of welcoming us all and warming us. My illusions were shattered the night the result of the latest election was announced.My disappointment was huge. I realized that we may never see again this free world we dreamed of so much...