She awakened just as in her dreams some ciegos were boarding a bus, begging for money, a dream from her Lost Days. The guapo in the seat next to her tapped her on the elbow.
Señorita, this is not something you’ll want to miss.
I’ve already seen it, she snapped. And then, calming herself, she peered out the window.
It was night and the lights of Nueva York were everywhere.
From The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, which takes place in the Dominican Republic and New Jersey, mostly, & won last year’s Pulitzer Prize for fiction. It’s extensively footnoted and conversational and dense; if I was reading again, I might be referring to online annotations.