[litbrit is reflecting]
The first thing I noticed about this country was the abundance of neon that sprouted along her streets. There wasn't a big Welcome To The Land of Opportunity sign on the wall in the Customs and Immigration enclosure at Miami International Airport, but once we headed into the city (today, it's more likely someone would head through Miami on his way to one of its supersprawled suburbs, neighborhoods, or sub-cities), I couldn't take my eyes off the vivid garden of commerce that grew all around, its long-stemmed offers of hamburgers and pizza and twenty-eight flavors all reaching toward the searing sunlight.
I tasted this new place America through a car window, with my eyes. We would live here now, here in this very bright hothouse with its asphalt floors and headache colors. I would eat and sleep here; one day, I would be all grown up and work here. It was at once thrilling and terrifying.
