“The nature of the border itself makes it a strange place, causing confusion, dissimulation.
I first heard of No More Deaths when my friend Richard, an anarchist I had met through the punk scene in New York, abruptly moved to Tucson to dedicate his life to the organization. While I stayed in Manhattan, plotting how to stop NYPD from stomping out symbolic tent villages, Richard ventured into the borderlands lugging a backpack filled with jugs of water and malcontent for the state like a modern day Edward Abbey hero. When I first mentioned to Richard that I might come down and visit him at NMD, he displayed little enthusiasm for the work he was doing, dissuading my hopes that the weekend at camp would be enjoyable by warning me of the severely stressful situation I was about to enter.”
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