The border between Lake Texcoco’s Federal Enclosure and the towns of San Luis Huexotla and San Bernardino extends today like a wasteland comprising a number of hectares, covered only by the salt emanating from the earth, patchy grass, and piles of rubble scattered far and wide. Many hectares remain free from occupation, expectant, unresolved, as if not belonging to any of the territories reclaiming them. In border zones such as this, or as in the U.S.-Mexico border, there always exists a strip of vacant land which, of its own accord, effaces the evidence of human activity. The rubble—these isolated, worthless chunks—are witnesses to erased human life, remaining the only thing that resists annihilation along this border-world.
For the first two decades of the 21st century, the southeastern strip of Lake Texcoco has shifted between appropriation and expropriation, constructions and evictions, demarcation and openness. During this period, homes were built and communities were organized. [...]