Sometimes, when I´m sitting on the Cooter, amazing thoughts and observations pop through my head!

I write them down in my little book.

¨The things people do in front of their houses:

• sweep
• paint each others nails
• chat
• watch other people
• talk through the gate
  
• chase each other with big sticks

Opportunistic dalmation at the sidewalk meat stand.

Pico in the making! C27B Kr 21B

Red eyes, blue eye shandow.
Wrong-way foot walks, but flaps about when the other leg drags it forward.
Yellow flower tree, no leaves.
Why do football jearseys all say UNICEF?
The Happy Birthday of B´quilla!
Old woman, red dress, toothpaste green house- She is holding onto her beauty.

Write email to Neuza about the thing I read.
Write to Sonja about nasal voices.

Mr. Titty.

The Cooter is fast. The Cooter is slow.

Meat, bakery, fumes.
Music with tac tac of clave.

She was missing out on things, in her solitude, and she knew it. Three years of solitary wandering, and she felt the missing in her life. And here she was living in Soledad, somewhere she didn´t want to stay, thus ensuring at least another year of detachment.

Ah, the green of Calle 57.

A group of 6 men apeaking sign language animatedly in front of tghe 72 market.

Traveling misinformed: interesting or dumb?

2 rocking chairs are still rocking, and the credits of a movie running on a TV. Seen through the front door in Soledad.

A line of blind people walking with hands on each others shoulders, sticks in the other hands...towards the nearby library?

Are poor people more interesting to look at through the window than rich? Why?

Mom!

The man who just sat down behind me smells like laurel leaves. He sings the Colombian salsa songs playing on the radio. The man sitting before was very very dark skinned and sang the champeta.

5 or 6 mangos thrown or dropped in the notch of a dark wet tree- so green they look blue.

They listen to the weirdset music here: ¨there´s a brown girl in the ring, la, lala, lala!¨ How do they chose it? I am constantly surprised. Last night from the football field bar, I heard what sounded like Israeli music.

Mom, Ti Chi, B´quilla, new feeling about here.

A clown got on the bus-a crazy champeta arcy darting bus. And the police came on to check cedulas but they didn´t check mine.

I always want to write about the ridiculous-inconvenient-strange things that come my way throughout the day. When life becomes ordinary (when ¨the ridiculous¨becomes ordinary), I write less. But life hasn´t become any less ridiculous. Really, I have just started enjoying the ridicuous things less, or am becoming them myself.¨

Facinating stuff.