July 21st, 2015
It might be the wine, it might be the rain, the lightning, the thunder, the ancient architecture surrounding this city… it might be everything and it might be nothing at all. I wish I could say it was myself alone who has grown to not care, I wish I could say it’s other’s interest in me who has kept me sane into thinking I am worthy of anyone’s time… I wish I could say my friends and family has kept me together in one piece. But the truth is I don’t know which it was, which it wasn’t… although it’s probably a whole combination of it all.
It’s raining, and it’s raining hard. It started out slow, very slow, almost gentle. Cautious of anyone still making their way home. But now it has released itself completely. Pouring to all, regardless of class, gender, or sexuality. The sky growls, flashes and pours down to us all, deserving or undeserving, it doesn’t matter, we all get the water, the lightning and the thunder. We want it, we fear it, we need it. This valley always a dangerous jungle, once to a war-mongering culture, then to a conquering culture, then to a revolutionary culture, and now to an economic culture. We will eat eachother into pieces and shit what eventually goes back to the ground, a ground that needs water. Water here comes accompanied with lightning and thunder. No exceptions.
Shark, dolphin, turtle, shrimp or marlin, wherever we lie in the food chain we all get the same water, same lightning, and same thunder.