Ramon sits down next to me on the fence in front of the station. He is one of the cartoneros with just such a trolley that isnt even half filled.
He has collected two pesos maybe. His girlfriend is sitting next to him and looks chagrined straight forwards.
His way back home will take him a long time, will be there after midnight. First he goes with the Tren Blanco to take at Ballester to the one to Bancalari.
Everyday I hear new names of neighbourhoods, streets in the west, the far-west of the city. And again and again I can not find these names on the map. When I am lucky there is a vague description, a street grid without names, but usually there is nothing, Its white, empty. They are the young neighbourhoods, often unknown. Built up with some wood, metal sheets and an electricity cable.
Later I ask Dani, who lives in the Villa Suárez,, if he ever has been in Bancalari. "Bancalari, you shouldnt go there!" he tells to me. "Too dangerous, you will be robbed immediately!"