People are usually surprised when they hit the border and realize there’s no change in the landscape, no giant dividing line in the sky. The land doesn’t care about the stupid lines humans insist on drawing on them, and the southern border is no different. There’s nothing there that makes it obvious you’re approaching an interstitial space between cultures, nothing that says people of one color live on one side and people of a different color inhabit the opposite side. Instead, there’s a short, dark fence next to the road and more empty space, a few bushes, and more dry earth.
