Mazatlan, Mexico

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Journal Extract

As the propelling shadows of the fan beat against the ceiling the heat continues to close and suffocate me. The dancing palms outside of my window is a sick trick by the hot and moist breezing swing through the town. The room in its typical state, clothes strewn all over the place, backpacks deflated, unmade beds, sand everywhere. A creative mess if only a temporary space. MTV continues to scream from the electronic box. A mindless drug to numb the brain from the heat. A breeze approaches, clouds congregate and try to challenge the sun’s power to give us all respite. But not for long.