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Ben keeps us up for another pint before we head back amongst battered buildings, ancient architecture mixed against modern, all crowded along uncommonly spaced cobblestone streets that twist and rise. Our hotel is on a hill on a hill, and we can see silhoutted mountains clear in the moonlight distance. Inside it's three beds across a room twenty by eight, and we sleep shirtless, laughing at our proximity.
El Camýno Mezcal
Izbella poked deep into a grocery. Amid roots and dirt she found five gallon jugs of agave pura. Sample shots slugged, we filled up old bottles at two dollars per liter. The register was stacked with cash and its operator armed. There was a Jesus above the pesos, hanging from the cross by only his left arm.
Saturday Morning Cartoons
I turn and look east at Playa Grande, a much happier sight. It draws me to the rim of the cliff. I aim my camera. Thick stands of coconut palms crowd the golden beach. The light is perfect. No haze away from the sun. Crisp white waves etched on the blue tide.
William Reese Hamilton