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The Secret History
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Hum
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by Helen Phillips (Goodreads Author)
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Monsters: A Fan's...
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  (page 40 of 257)
Jan 09, 2026 04:04AM

 
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Javier Zamora
“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

Javier Zamora
“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

Javier Zamora
“I smile and keep nodding, imagining my parents' hands. Their house. Their lawn. Their garden. Their swimming pool and cars. I want The Four to meet my parents. I look over at Patricia and Carla. At Chino. I'm gonna say goodbye to them soon. The sun is a bit over the center of the sky, shining in every direction. Our shadows are so small, but they touch. We're one big shadow. Our own family. I hope we rest a long time.”
Javier Zamora, Solito

Javier Zamora
“All of us rise from the dirt that's more and more become our mattress. We're wearing our shirt-hoods again, our chamarras tied around our waists. The air heats up. The moon is about to crash into the mountain. It's nine A.M., and my watch's plastic band begins to burn. I'll keep it on. I have to know the time when I see my parents.”
Javier Zamora, Solito

Javier Zamora
“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

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