TIME Magazineのインスタグラム(time) - 5月24日 02時41分

On a Friday evening in early May, @betoorourke makes an appearance at the Mariachi Loco Music Festival in El Paso. Amy O’Rourke had given her husband, who hopes to unseat Ted Cruz as Texas' junior Senator in November, a 7 p.m. curfew. But before heading home he climbs into his pickup and heads into the hills, pulling into the empty parking lot of Sun Bowl Stadium. Below are the train tracks that run along the border, and beyond the endless sprawl of Juárez, orange and purple in the creeping dusk. It’s a city of about 1.4 million people that’s separated from El Paso by a tall, rust–colored fence. A message has been painted in Spanish onto the face of a mountain, legible from miles away: LA BIBLIA ES LA VERDAD; LEELA. (The Bible is the truth; read it.) It’s a version of the border—and of comity—that stands in almost perfect contrast with the one that Donald Trump rode into office two years ago. And O’Rourke is physically at home with it. He is well aware of how Wendy Davis’ previous campaign fizzled and knows it’s a challenge to sustain early momentum until Election Day. “We’ve been smart enough to be honest with the people,” he says. “I just want to be as raw and direct and real as I can—and it seems to be working.” He’ll make history if it does. Read the full story on TIME.com. Photograph by Benjamin Rasmussen (@benjaminras) for TIME

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