It is day three in our camp,and nothing has changed.i don't know why im waiting,i keep waiting for someone to tell me that papa got his job back and that mama's still alive,i want someone to hold me and tell me it will be alright.
June 27.
My fingers hurt.i cut them today at the factory,and i dont think i can write much longer. The bandages have already bled through and i dont have enough money to buy more.i dont see how people get by on ten cents a day.We get new people here at the camp everyday.We're losing room.
July 1.
Papa's not well. they say he is just getting worse with every day that goes by.i am running out of money and i cant work any extra hours, or they will remove papa from the hospital.i pray every night that i will have enough money to pay for the medical bills.
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