travel vignette


Lima, Peru. Summer 2015.

8:30am. A faint thread of fish is loose in the air, unraveling from the sea a few blocks away. Cars whistle by sounding runaway horns. Peruvians move between them when red lights favor. A few run the sidewalks; mostly women, clicking by in their heels, bags slung over their shoulders, clutching sweaters because you can’t tell if it’s nice or cold in this city. There are small buses with small men calling for riders. Lime green gloves flap flamboyant from the tight-lipped traffic guard, staring down the morning commute whizzing past.

A timid man tries to hail a bus. Nervioso. He’s taken several deep breaths. I guess anxiety sees no borders. A young couple walk together, meandering to work. The whole city is late around them, but he carries her purse, and they walk slow. Sunshine faces. A woman checks her reflection in the mirrored building, scrunches her nose. I felt the exact same way this morning.



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