Between your people and my people there is a dot and a dash: the dash says you can’t pass, the dot says the road is closed. And like that, between all the peoples: dot dash dot dash. With so many dots and dashes, the map is a telegram. Walking about the world one sees rivers and mountains, one sees forests and deserts, but no dots or dashes. Because they don’t exist. Rather, they were drawn there so that my hunger and yours would always be separated.
By Anibal Nazoa (translated by Tamara Pearson)