Maybe Chugchilán is hung over and stayed in bed today. The town itself feels lethargic and grey. The clouds lend a coolness of mood, and temperature, while they dampen the air and fallen rain forms little muddy rivulets that roll out of town and return to their mud brick homes.
Few people are in town today. The muddied wine boxes and rubbish in the streets make the town look even more deserted. Two kids wander buy, then wander back with a plastic bag of milk. The policeman is clearly bored. His office has the only lively music to be heard and he plays with a little girl dressed in pink,, then wanders up the street leaning slightly as he holds a little pink hand. A donkey wanders through with a gas tank strapped to his saddle and a piglet nibbles at the weeds growing through cracks in the road.
It’s cold, and the rain chases me back home.
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