The day we moved into our new house in Little Haiti, a thin white woman with sallow skin walked along the sidewalk past our gate, head bowed and shoulders hunched, coughing as she passed. A white man in an expensive car had dropped her off and then driven out of sight. She was almost pretty, her features drawn, her expression worn. Her wispy hair was tied in a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. "Sorry," she said after she coughed, without looking up, in a voice that... More >>>