18 December 2007, Tuesday. Gray wind through the magnolia, constant rain. Golden leaves against an even grayer sky--dull emergent browns. Homey emblem of the 7-eleven, emblazoned on milky slumpstone parapet. Marlboros: 3.99. Miller Light--red blinkers flashing, patient behemoth. Hooded driver leaning into handcart--dark blue cast iron--stack of plastic crates. A sliding economy with sketchy lyrics--something about Engelbert Humperdinck, or that unending version of "Delilah" (Tom Jones?) blasting forth from the speakers of a Bulgarian amusement park in Warszawa, 10 floors below. Vision of the future--1968--something raw, untamed. Or today--an elephant, constructed of vertical Venetian blinds, black-ribbed plastic ductwork and a gathering of artificial flowers. The authenticity of detritus. What is our choice?
Un equipo de gauchos, mateando...
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