We walk our daily route. Its not a very long way but Im tired, very tired, and my hands stink. What have I done after all? I didnt carry or drag anything. At most I put my hands in a bag for a while.
Fidel has noticed it already and is joking about it. "In a few days you will not be that tired any more. You will be a real cartonero. You learn quickly, in a week you will be able to look through a bag and to touch it in order to know whats inside. You will be able to put your hand in it and grab the paper at once."
We are waiting in front of an apartment building. From a door next to it a woman comes out with a plastic bag full of newspapers. "Here, this is for you," she says with a smile. I feel a sense of shame inside me.
While she walks back she turns around and takes a better glimpse at me. I see her thinking; this is a bit strange. I am definitely too white for this job. She maybe thinks that I am a failed immigrant from Ukraine.