Let me tell you where it came from. The day was late on – in a tired, thin shoed, tired foot, tired sun kind of way. A tired thin sky straining to keep within it the ancient sun beating down on the ancient grounds. Nicaragua was old and it was new and hot and busy and cluttered like some kitchen drawer in an old beat flat. It was useful, and loved but messy and...

The blue of the night sky. The drip, drip, drip from an ancient eaves trough. The yellow glare of cracked lights upon the worn, greedy, jumbled stones. Walls of buildings slant and slope like drunken men stumbling through drunken streets a thousand years ago. I blend in more with the streets than I do with the men. I am more rock than blood. The whole place shines,...