Fast Fiction The sun was quite strong at lunch hour. We had come to the spacious front patio of the factory to play football soccer; no need to speak of work and the miseries of our situation as illegal aliens. This was glory time, a time in which nothing would insist on us, except the passing availability to own a piece of our lives, the win or lose time, without any other hidden agendas. Some of us have come from countries as far as Colombia and Peru; others as close as Honduras and Mexico;... Sign in to see full entry.