The town is some how sterile looking, though the houses are brightly painted and loud splashes of color burst from flowering plants. Sterile. The sun is so bright. Washed out. In this tiny town in Uruguay, there is the slow growl of motorcycles, the hum of birds and swells of childish chatter...it seems like a ghost town. The sun is so bright. The sun bleaches out everything and the sandy streets reflect the paleness. Behind my back is the chocolate brow expanse of the Rio del Plata. The wind plucks at the water gently folding the water over onto its self. [View Full Entry]

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