an old homeless man spat at the back of my friend’s heel in Rochester. the streets change from one end to the other, an America of diversity in every sense of the word. extremities, extreme bodies, extreme poverty. an unhinged atmosphere like obscure glass fibres of destruction in the air, invisible but everywhere and silently digging into the walls of your throat. freedom is a clichéd American catch phrase, but whose freedom are they proclaiming? most people we met couldn’t afford a passport.