" but Joe and I are in a world of our own. He’s from San Leandro, across the bay. His favorite song is “Harbor Lights” by Frances Langford, and when he sings a few bars under his breath, I think I might die of happiness. The first night, coal dust drifts through the cracks as we rattle through the mountain tunnels, and hardly anyone gets any sleep, but in the morning, during our single stop in Nevada, Joe and I stroll past the armed soldiers like we’re in a park instead of a desert depot. After two days in Joe’s company, "

― Traci Chee , We Are Not Free