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For the first time at a meeting in his hometown of New York, where he is not in the odor of holiness, the ex-president and aspiring “dictator” appears very conquering, including towards young people and minorities.
Slumped against a rock, Haley widens her eyes through the scarlet curls that fall on the golden skin of her face, dangling her gaze in disbelief between the constant parade before her of caps as red as her neon mane and a giant flag, making float the name of Donald Trump above the vast park in the Bronx where, since she was little, she has had her habits. “It’s not true, she yelped, It’s Trump, it’s really Trump, he’s really going to come here, to us?” Immediately, she and her two friends pull out their phones together, calling their mothers, to whom they deliver the news, delivered out loud in a high-pitched blend of Spanish and English: “Mama, I’m going to see Trump, I’m going to be on TV.” Then, the woman named Nana, who hung up first, blurted out in a gray voice: “My god, it’s still incredible… I love Trump! I always liked him, he’s cool…” But in what way? She couldn’t say enough. And like her friends, she will not be able to vote for him on November 5 either: high school students, they are only sixteen years old, and were barely entering school when he became president. They only knew his world.
Since 2015 and almost a decade of endless campaigning, the Trump circus has