This is México, cabrón

It's late, the sky shows it's smile over me with little winkle above the eminence of a dark sided part of the world, over Aztec soil, fresh or nutrients and oh so wasted. 

In there, at the hole of the devil, a haunted house inside the intestines of the pretty large end of the digestive system at ZR, I met this guy during a party. 

His name, let's just call him C, he is English, Scottish I would say. He has already travelled the world and he might be around my age. Shorty, fatty, great personality. "Why are you here?" , "I came to work" he said. Soccer teacher at a private club, high class society, they paid him, and other two of his friends (one from London and the other, I didn't heard, but I think the spoke slang), a house "in Naucalpan" near their job. 

"What do you like about Mexico?" , "girls" just that. I think he is a nice guy, he knows how to joke, he just wants to meet girls, as everybody there, I guess. Forward on the conversation a girl tells "in Mexico, you have to swear to live, I'll show you, 'cabrón' means badass" and going backwards "do you have any plans for living? What else do you like from Mexico, why here?" , "I'm here because of the job, that's all, I just want to live, and I'm happy now, so, I'm not looking for more". Think to myself "sorry dude, you disappointed me". We don't need another Chicharito, we need an intern sustainability, we don't need a merchant president, never the less a fascist communist, we need peace.

As the night passed by, things started going weird, the disco ball was still there, went out, talked to big beautiful brown eyes, walked trough empty streets, went back. There's an explosion. Something "really bad happened" another broken  feelings story. 

Oh, surrealist Mexico, in the tavern of the devil, the ceiling sharp as a knife, walls all fucked up, just two lights, people dancing while others fight. Poverty and people getting drunk in an old fashioned way, just beer. Indio, Corona, what do you want more? 

Pieces of glasses breaking under the toes, outside, world is worst. Cocaine, mariachi and Banda, the sensation of being observed. And the cheapest way of getting high, glue. In this jungle, you have to survive  and you don't need exactly to be feed, you just have to consume the necessary, it also implies  smelling the yellow substance. Nothing else, the other stuff is for rich people. 

In the end, that's all in city life, sex, cocaine, glue and Lupita D'Alessio. 

That's México, cabrón.