There are borders everyone sees: the looming fence with its sporadic observation platforms, the tags claiming this block or that in the name of a local gang or drug cartel, and the wrought-iron fences surrounding gated communities.
There are borders that are real only in our minds, like the imaginary lines that divide country from country, or one race from another.
But in this little southwestern town, another border reveals itself to those gifted with the power to see it: the veil between the worlds. Even today, the old ways of magic are still taught; spells, curses, visions and transformations are still practiced, and opposing clans are locked in a daily battle that no policia would ever understand.
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"Personality is a persona, a mask. The world is a stage, the self a theatrical creation... Personality is not innate, but acquired. Like a mask, it is a thing, a fetish, a fetishistic object or commodity."