The azotea - rooftop patio - is totally overtaken by lichen. I am wandering around on the grubbiest floors my mother could imagine, barefooted, because my feet have been swollen lately. The internet will only be on for a little while longer. I lay on the cushions on Geoffrey's bench made of pallets. There is bird shit on the cushions but I don't even care. The sun is setting and the crumbling and peeling paint buildings are orange. Swallows dive right near me. Swarms of them are screeching all over the sky. Pretty soon the bats will come out. The bathroom door is always open, it leads up to the patio. I have a dark tan, my hair is all messy and I have hours of sweat dried onto me and am dirty but I don't even care.
Barrio San Miguel my new home. There is electricity (though it is rather unconventional at this point), no restrictions on water, gas for tea and a washing machine washing my clothes. There are no sounds except it and the swallows.