Before stepping foot into this restaurant, I already wrote the food in Colombia off as the best food that I’ve experienced so far worldwide. No questions. I’ve never experienced such extensive use of seasoning in any place I’ve visited. America included.
I am sorry guys for this delayed blog! I have been working 60-80 hour weeks and between time I had to switch hosts and fuss and fight trying to get the coding right. It’s been stressful to say the least but I’m getting closer to Belize and I had to get this out or I’d feel bad about myself. Seriously!
Picture it. San Francisco. Last week. Landing in a rush to see what the city has to offer and find the one thing that’s always dangling in front of me but I can never grasp. I don’t even know what it is but I know that it’s missing and leaves a gaping throbbing hole in my day to day life. The city is like any other city. Large, beautiful and full of history but a whirlwind of hills that left me disappointed in search of nothing but everything at the same time.
Sometimes I will post short non-fiction stories that I wrote about a trip. This story takes place during my winter vacation in Philadelphia.
She had an abortion. She claimed it had to be done as she burned another piece of her broken heart and snorted the ashes. She didn’t even tear up this time. She just kept rocking in place, addicted to the chase. The chase that used to be as innocent as elementary school love notes with questions like, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” (And sometimes a drawn in “maybe” box.) Except over time her pleas weren’t innocent and they were no longer cute, just haunting.
This was a frequent occurrence, watching her pick at the scabs over her heart and listening to her run down the previous night’s rendezvous on the streets that led her into the clinic the next morning for penicillin and extended vacations for godchildren I will never get to meet.