The night seemed surprisingly quiet. Hundreds of men roamed the streets, scoured dark, narrow hallways with their eyes, and constantly entered and exited through the red doors. I felt like a ghost by the way they ignored me - they definitely had one thing on their mind.
The quietness came from inside the brothels. We didn't get a chance to talk to many of our friends because so many of their doors were shut and the traffic through the hallways was thick. It's always difficult to invite girls to La Casa when they don't know who we are. Humberto gave a brief introduction and told the girls what was on the menu for lunch the next day: Cerviche, raw fish (scales, too) soaked in lime. Many promised they'd come for lunch. I didn't expect to see them, though, because they often promise to show up and we never see them.
In one of the brothels, I noticed a fairly intense conversation happening. A man was questioning a woman about her keys and asked her why she was leaving. She was definitely a worker and he may have been the pimp, monitoring her coming and going. My guess was she wanted out...
We walked outside to find a huge group of men surrounding 3 other men - a couple of police officers and another guy. We quickly crossed the street to stay out of their way. I still don't know what had happened, and I know God protected us that evening.
One women asked us where the hot chocolate was, since we made our street visits without it that night. I apologized that we didn't have it and assured her we'd bring it next time. She grabbed my arm and giggled.
I'm home, now, where I can look out the windows and see LIFE - awesome greenery, raspberry vines, grass, and PEACE. I'm sad for my friends who still do not see life out their windows. I miss smiling at them.
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