Solito Quotes

“Mom likes to call them my "angels," but I worry that takes away their humanity and their nonreligious capacity for love and compassion they showed a stranger.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“I never found out what happened to Chele, or to any of the countless others who were with me. I fear they died in the Sonoran Desert. This book is for them and for every immigrant who has crossed, who has tried to, who is crossing right now, and who will keep trying.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“All of the colors are amazing—some still linger at the edges of the sky, but when sunrise was at its peak, it felt like we were walking in a painting. Pinks, oranges, reds, purples, yellows, mixing together like watercolors. I thought I liked sunsets most, but I think I like sunrises better.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“My hope for this book is that somehow it will reunite me with Chino, Patricia, and Carla, that I will find out what happened to them after we separated and learn what their lives have been like in this country. I don't believe I ever thanked them. I want to thank them now, as an adult, for risking their lives for a nine-year-old they did not know.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Grandpa isn't here to talk to me before falling asleep, to go out for walks and explore the town, and because of that I feel alone, lonely, solo, solito, solito de verdad.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“I remember the man in the boat. The Guatemalans on the bus. Strangers, but I remember some of their faces. The wrinkles when one of them cried. The people in the boat vomiting on their clothes. Shirts on top of shirts. Sitting on their backpacks like I’m doing now. It’s like they’re still here with us in the back of another pickup. I hope everyone is ok. That they’re in La USA.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“It's dusk almost completely night, and right there is the ocean. The stars begin to dot the sky. I like to think there's a giant holding the earth in one hand, a needle in his other hand, poking the sky there, there, and there-”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“I love looking for the big white moon. Seeing it change. It's better than looking at my watch. The moon has been up there watching me since the dawn I said goodbye to Abuelita, Mali, Lupe, Julia, the dog, the cat, and my parakeet. It was there with Grandpa, when Marcelo left us, when Chele and Mario ran. It reminds me of all of them. Polleros said there wouldn't be a moon, but they're wrong. Like a slice of watermelon bitten to the rind, it showed up over the mountains to our right. I like its gray light before the sun paints the dawn, our clothing changing from black to gray to blue like we're chameleons.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Then everyone in The Six says the same thing: "¡Faaaak!" We scream from the pits of our bellies. Up our throats. Out of our wide-open mouths. We can't stop laughing. I still don't know what it means. First, I hoped the cars would stop. Now, a part of me hopes they keep driving so we keep yelling: "¡FAAAAKKKK!”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Patricia and Carla look like they're sleeping. I can't see the whites of their eyes. We look like a matchbox. Sticks on top of each other. A human cake. I'm the cherry on top, the smallest one riding on the carpet. I'm Aladdin. I finally made it through the desert.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“I’m still mad no one but Carla cared. Patricia tried a little, but to the men, I’m a rock in their shoe. A splinter. I don’t like feeling like this, like there’s something missing. An unfinished puzzle. A Lego set with pieces missing. When the adults ignored me and they got to talk to their families, it made me miss my family. My real family. I thought they cared about me. Chino called me his hermanito, but he didn’t do anything. I want them to care like how Mali cares about me. Instead, I look outside—”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“My hands are drenched. I check my watch constantly. I stare at the short pollero's thin gold chains around his neck. His shirt and pants aren't as tight as the other pollero's, who walked outside minutes ago. Then the ring against the door, tap, tap, tap.

I stand up before the door opens.

The door unlocks. Tarsi is awake, and he watches me. His mom smiles and stands up with me.

The door opens, a bright flash.

My name booms throughout the room.

Two shadows appear. At last.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Then we stop. "¡Down!" Coco Liso almost yells. We crouch. Pick a bush. I hold my breath. It sounds like an ocean wave is approaching the shore. A loud crash. Then it keeps crashing, but softer and softer until we can't hear it anymore. Shhhhhh. It quiets down like sand absorbing water, fizzling,

"Car," people whisper.

¿A car? ¿That was a car? ¡It sounded like the ocean! I look at Carla, who looks at me. Her eyes are big. I smile. She smiles back. I look at Chino, and he nods, doing his lip thing, meaning he thinks it's cool también.

We wait until there aren't any noises. We move again. People look back and whisper, "Stay low." I don't have to. Most bushes are taller than me. At most, I tilt my head. Carla has to bend a little, but she's also not that tall. The road is real. We hear it. We crouch from Crayon bush to Cheerleader bush. Past Fuzzies and Lonelies. We stop when we hear a wave forming, nearing, crash - then it fizzles away. I love it. ¡This is the ocean! The asphalt road is the ocean water, the cars the waves.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“She ito-es everything.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Then, like a flag, I shift my fingers to the right. I line my index to the bottom of the sun, until my fingers reach the horizon. However many fingers there are, each equals fifteen minutes to sunset. Four fingers equals an hour.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“For seven weeks (from April 20, 1999, to June 10, 1999), no one knew where I was. Grandpa handed me over to Don Dago in Tecún Umán, and Don Dago never called my family in El Salvador again.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“I’m Aladdin. I finally made it through the desert.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“My legs almost feel normal, except my shins feel like someone is squeezing them hard, like I'm in the middle of a river and water is rushing around me. My headaches are almost completely gone. Just one more day. One more walk. We leave tomorrow at dusk, Ramón said. Always at dusk in the desert. Sunrises, sunsets, I'm starting to hate them both.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“We are coral. Rocks at the bottom of the ocean. ¿What's it gonna be like during the day? Coco Liso didn't promise a van at sunrise. We're walking until sunset. Looking for Rhino Mountain. Chino comes back faster, a giant fish swimming toward us.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“The sound of the wooden oar entering the water is calming. Like water taking a breath.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“The adults asked Don Dago about it, but he said it was mentira, pajas, chambre, porquería. That is was the Guatemalan police spreading rumors, paying locals to scare people like us '"migrantes" is what the locals call us. A word that's hard to say. The gran to the tes like a mountain that's hard for my tongue to climb. A word like there's salt water in my throat.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“closer”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“This book is for them and for every immigrant who has crossed, who has tried to, who is crossing right now, and who will keep trying.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“She’s smiling. Mom never smiles with her teeth showing, but always tilts
her heart-shaped face a little to the right, like she’s leaning in for a secret.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Grandpa taught me to hold my left hand out far in front, my arm straight. Then, like a flag, I shift my fingers to the right. I line my index to the bottom of the sun, until my fingers reach the horizon. However many fingers there are, each equals fifteen minutes to sunset. Four fingers equals an hour.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Whenever he has to leave the house for any reason, Grandpa polishes his boots, irons his pants and his shirt, shaves, combs his hair with oil, and drenches himself in cologne.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“When Carla pretends she's my sister in public, she calls me 'hermanito,' like what Chino called me. In private, when it's only The Six, she calls me bichito, monito, or niñito. I don't mind. I am the youngest.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“Nuestros cuerpos son los textos que transportan los recuerdos y por consiguiente los recuerdos son, como mínimo, una reencarnación. —KATIE CANNON (cita incluida en El cuerpo lleva la cuenta)”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“albergue.”
― Javier Zamora, Solito

“At recess, my friends and I talk about eating our first pepperoni pizza like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, eating lasagna like Garfield, eating McDonald’s, watching the new Star Wars inside a theater with air-conditioning, eating “popcorn” with butter. I’ve never tried any of these things except for pizza from Pizza Hut, and that was last Christmas. “¿But”
― Javier Zamora, Solito