Puente de los Tres Ojos


being young, you and i, we put all of our things (our lamp, our bedsheets, our good silverware, even our dog) into the back of our covered wagon and wandered the mica-sparkling highways of san diego.


Zully, Tomas and I spend all morning walking the streets. It's good to leave the hostel which smells unpleasantly of mildew.

They can't stop talking about the Spanish women. I concede that they are well-dressed. It's true. They play well with colors.

Finally we stop at a cafe in a kind of plaza. At around four the plaza starts getting crowded. At one end a group of flamenco dancers come out to perform. The boys talk to two Irish girls they meet at the cafe. I walk over to see the dancing.