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June 16.
The sky was very clear.
The streets of Tijuana were still in disarray, with rubble everywhere and severed limbs visible beneath the broken stones and debris.
Svet was busily working with a pair of white gloves on.
He followed the Mexican National Emergency Squad to help a neighborhood street clean up trash. Was this what they called "police and citizens as one family"?
That's what Kennedy said.
Besides necessary patrols, most officers were assigned to clean up the streets.
At first, many ordinary people hid in their houses, pointing and commenting, but gradually more and more joined the cleanup crew.
"Come on, kid, have some coke."
Just as Svet wiped his sweat, a pair of withered hands with wrinkled skin stretched out in front of him, holding a cola. He looked up to see an old lady looking at him.
