In the Barrio of Mexico
February 22nd 2009 There is a garble of mayhem. Buses spit, gears grinding and thumping. Horns from their push-buttons blare; from yellow and white Mazda taxis, from gritty pockmarked trucks, from local peoples and passing pedestrians. It’s hot where all these species interact, for a strong Mexican sun burns low in February skies. Everything seems to sweat. My pores. The parched plants covered in dust.
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