Amores Perros
No political or economic content ahead. Read on if you must.
The desert town had come to fit almost too comfortably. As he sat on his terrace overlooking the Alameda, he realized he was beginning to know a lot of people here, as well as their cars, trucks, and horses. It was unusual now when he spied an unknown dog wandering the plaza. As the season advanced he kept to the side of the street bathed in sombra, (shadow). How many years had passed since his acquaintance with the she-wolf of that name? Pleasant memories of that canine and her son, Sol, flooded his waking mind. In a linear universe the shadow would be born of the sun. This once, the sombra had given birth to the sol. What delight it had been to watch them run together over the desert mesas those many years ago.
Something about sun-baked lands draws one's self down to an empirical kernal of... hard to put a finger on really... The line between delusion and consciousness is baked to a thin and brittle membrane in these climates. Osmoses betwixt the two can become a torrent of tidal surges between synchronous shores with only a dimly perceived chronology to lend order to the day.
He couldn't remember when he began listening to the song. It had remained a repeating soundtrack for some of his finer moments; bringing him back to a center of sorts. It became harder to judge... anything. Empiricism had grabbed hold of him as it does inevitably in all harsh climates. Still, the question nagged. Nibbling about his consciousness with a determination and thoroughness that would not be stopped. Like a cerebral mouse infestation the crumbs of perception fell to the desert heat.
The desert town had come to fit almost too comfortably. As he sat on his terrace overlooking the Alameda, he realized he was beginning to know a lot of people here, as well as their cars, trucks, and horses. It was unusual now when he spied an unknown dog wandering the plaza. As the season advanced he kept to the side of the street bathed in sombra, (shadow). How many years had passed since his acquaintance with the she-wolf of that name? Pleasant memories of that canine and her son, Sol, flooded his waking mind. In a linear universe the shadow would be born of the sun. This once, the sombra had given birth to the sol. What delight it had been to watch them run together over the desert mesas those many years ago.
Something about sun-baked lands draws one's self down to an empirical kernal of... hard to put a finger on really... The line between delusion and consciousness is baked to a thin and brittle membrane in these climates. Osmoses betwixt the two can become a torrent of tidal surges between synchronous shores with only a dimly perceived chronology to lend order to the day.
He couldn't remember when he began listening to the song. It had remained a repeating soundtrack for some of his finer moments; bringing him back to a center of sorts. It became harder to judge... anything. Empiricism had grabbed hold of him as it does inevitably in all harsh climates. Still, the question nagged. Nibbling about his consciousness with a determination and thoroughness that would not be stopped. Like a cerebral mouse infestation the crumbs of perception fell to the desert heat.
