Where does one go to rinse off the slime that constantly oozes from the sky? Where do you go to sit in the dirt, smell the thick sweet smell of grass and let the sun suck the poisons out of your rotting body? Where do you go to be reminded, after all the delusions, we are or nature? The "sound of silence"....in San Pedro. Cowboys hats, angelic voices and twanging hearts. Rock-a-billies, bikers, hippies, abuelos, kids and the lost souls that stand like ghost amongst everyone. San Pedro´s fourth annual country music festival, which I stumbled on two weeks ago, was nothing like silence. From 1pm-8pm we listened to all sorts of country. Covers and original music. English and Spanish. Bolo ties, sequines, and stained shirts. Ice cream, choripan, beer, and facturas. Growling motorbikes, squeeling kids,
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