The mass of humanity pushes on, like a giant never-ending river of metal and flesh ebbing forward towards something new. Are these rivers that are combining to form a new larger thing, or does this one diminish, eventually evaporating into nothingness? Is this a search or is this simply a place in time, no point, no direction, onward and upward, to the great beyond, with no purpose or meaning?
It feels as though we are going against the flow but everywhere around us there is movement. Is the force opposing us or are we one with it?
These guys.
Who are they?
Are they coming or going? Are they leaving something behind, or are they looking for something new? Or is it not that at all?
Can this all simply be another day and the quest for food and drink continues on, over the border, beyond the border, without any borders?
There will be many stops along our way. Some will have purpose, and some will not, and some upon reflection were never part of the story yet crucial to it's telling. A journey of this significance requires patience, virtue, and hydration. We will stop often, we will refresh ourselves from without and from within. The end is not the goal, the path is the true quest, and we will walk it together.
Although our pockets may be light our hearts will be full, and so will our stomachs.
But I must ask, would you eat raw fish presented in a bowl of lukewarm tomato juice, enjoyed at the very first stop, just barely across the border?
Some would give this one a yes, a very hearty yes indeed.
Others will make decisions with the long road ahead in mind, packing for the voyage as it were, preparing for the future.
Has this cauldron of fire been drawn fresh for the day? Or do they simply continue to add to the mass, building on the flavor, the growing yet unseen thorns within ready to bloom 1 day beyond it's ingestion, letting loose the waters that are now held at bay?
In the end the respite did us good.
The day was still early but the path ahead was long. And now it's time to say heave-ho!
Are we in the box or upon the box? Are we watching or being watched? The looker or the seer?
The implications of fancy decor are of a heightened class of service and a better quality of offerings.
One could also surmise that the value of goods is/should be commensurate with the requested price.
And you would be wrong. Not always, but it's there, if you pay attention.
Does a pig with an apple in it's mouth taste any better than one without?
The magic of the unknown as it becomes the known shatters the cobwebs of apprehension and blows them to the wind.
To risk and not succeed has more potential success than to not have risked at all.
We enter.
As they say with the truffle, hidden deep beneath the forest floor, dug up by the snout of a pig, brushed clean, shaved atop or within and devoured with gusto, there are gems such as this,
where should it be unknown to you, it might never be known at all.
What of these pigs? In their dark cave. Lording over everyone that enters their lair, scrutinizing, opinionizing. Is that a smile that breaks the surface, or a scowl simply crinkled through an ageless face?
Wake up sir! Pay attention!
Nuts from Japan.
I think not, yet the name tells a different story.
Left, right, around the round-a-bout, another street, another part of town. Oft suggested, never experienced, and we arrive.
Expectations are high.
We feel as exposed as the room. Clearly there is attention to detail, to everything but us. Every stone turned over, except the one hanging above.
Skepticism runs deep. It's not too late to run, like little-red-riding-hood just before knocking on the door. You can feel the big bad wolf lurking around the corner, ready to pounce.
And yet, there it is, an olive branch signaling a truce.
Seems genuine this offering of peace......
And then we feel the smite of the salt saber as it rattles through our gullets. Pulling every drop of moisture and flavor sensor from our mouths. A gastronomic version of bamboo shoots hammered up under our fingernails. EVERYONE RUN!
And yet we smile on. Unwavering are we in the stead of our quest.
Even a shit show draws a crowd.
A deal is brokered, a price is set. We break from the company that we've joined, new friends looking forward to the reunion that is soon planned. Yet, as the clock ticks on we feel abandoned, alone in a country, naked in a city, left on a street so unfamiliar. Where do we go? Who can help us? We know the eventual destination, yet again, our path is unclear.
This one would never have left us behind.
The Ex-Machina of this tale has appeared.
Our Valhalla is again within our sights, we feel the beat of it's heart.
The feast begins as we break the fast from our long journey.
And we quench the thirst that still reeks it's havoc long after our escape from the evil king and his kingdom from the north.
It's time.
The remains of the day.
The carcasses of both men and beast lay upon the field of battle, destruction as far as the eye can see.
When is enough enough? Is there a point of no return? Can we ever go back?
We are not alone. The mass expands, the undertow calls to us, reaching, grabbing, enticing us to return from whence we came, pulling us along with the others. The light is at the end of the tunnel, we can feel it's flicker upon our cheeks. A ticklish calling, welcoming us back with open arms.
Thank you Mexico
See you again soon
DVA
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