IN A TRAILER PARK IN SHREVEPORT
For once, I set aside chance encounters, and since I have no contacts that can help me here, I decided to push destiny a little. I dutifully sit on the desk of my hotel room and begin calling all permanent campsites on the outskirts of the city.
Quickly, a warm and courageous voice agrees to receive me. He’s from this place, as is the rest of his family. He inherited the business. There is a lot of land not too far from the periphery of the city. The land is covered with mobile bungalows that aren’t luxurious looking, but seem to be well maintained. I’ve seen much worse along the road, but those probably are not looking for too much publicity.
She’s Irish. She came to Texas only a few years ago to join him. They met through the Internet. She tells me about her childhood in Northern Ireland. English tanks, constant tension, her house destroyed by a bomb destined for the station next door. Lowering her voice, she says that only his love keeps her here. The general atmosphere, the racial division in particular, reminds her too much of her childhood in Ireland; she’s reminded of Belfast, like a nightmare.