Leaving Las Brisas

It is easy to see where Gabriel García Márquez got his mystical influences, they are all around you in Colombia.

Just recently I have realized that the environment has been mirroring my emotions, in a much more spiritual than Shakespearean way.
We left Taganga today.
Less than a week before our departure the infamous, 'brisas locas' or crazy winds, the source of every comfortable sleep and relief from Master Suns whip, stopped for three days.

Causing my Love and I to sleep in separate stagnant beds under the same roof for the first time in our togetherness.

Then when it seemed that no beer, no matter the amount of time it spent in the freezer rather than fridge, could bring refreshment from the dead hanging air. The winds came back and only then could we muster enough strength to raise our sails.

I mourned the taxi ride to the bus station, less for Taganga and more for the energies of people we were leaving behind.
While we rode I saw a man welding in the dark. The light was so bright that his enormous shadow was projected behind him on the white factory walls. As if a monster was aiding him in his work.

The sky flashed with lightening all through the night, and the Taganga winds blew us south to San Gil. Where it continues to thunder with rain.

- Jameson

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