Dear Mom and Dad

having a great time at Camp Concentration

Dear Mom and Dad,

¡Hola desde Camp Concentration!

Even though I told the guards that I am 47 and you have been dead for many anos, they told us to write home so you wouldn’t worry.

I’m doing just fine, really. The sun is hot, the bugs are huge, and everything smells like wet socks and gas—como en los viejos tiempos, right?

We wake up at 5am every day to a loud alarm that sounds like a broken robot screaming. Then we line up for el conteo (they call it "roll call") and if you’re too slow, one of the counselors taps his stick on your cage and gives you that look. Pero no pasa nada—I’m learning to move faster.

Food’s okay! Yesterday we had arroz con... I think it was algo que antes fue pollo. It was warm-ish! I eat fast now because el tiempo para comer es muy corto and they don’t let you keep anything.

We sleep in big tents with lots of other kids. The floor is mud, but at least it’s soft. My friend Carlitos said he heard something outside the tent at night, maybe a caimán. But the guards just laughed and said “That’s part of the camp experience!”

There are muchas actividades—we do a lot of standing, waiting, and learning how to say our ID numbers muy claro. We even got to take turns cleaning the toilets with just a rag and a bucket! I think that means I’m becoming más responsable, right?

Sometimes the guards smile, but it’s the kind of smile that says “I’m watching.” One of them gave me a sticker once. It said “Compliance is Cool.” I put it on my shirt but it fell off when it got too sweaty.

Anyway, I just want you to know that everything here is super normal and not at all terrifying. Really. Don’t try to come visit—dicen que no se puede, and it’s probably better that way.

Tell abuela I miss her tortillas. Tell my sister I didn’t forget her birthday, even if I don’t know what day it is anymore.

Con mucho amor,

Tu hijo (o lo que queda de él)

Detainee #44171

P.S. If you see the dog, tell her I still remember her bark. Todavía la oigo a veces, cuando cierro los ojos.