My Life in Argentina and Beyond

A fat man with a well-fed face wearing a three-piece suit walked by our double line at the soup kitchen. He gave us—the women first and then the men—the once over and asked: What are these people waiting for? No one in the line answered. They probably thought ignoring him was the best thing to do. Food, I said. The man walked on with his group of friends. I smiled because I envied his luck. He’s probably never seen a soup kitchen line in real life. The only time he’s come across soup kitchens is in the movies.