Where The Streets Have No Name

It was Cool

I will make it

Lots of stuff to do! I want to run and I want to hide and maybe I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside. If it doesn’t cost extra, I want to reach out and touch the flame. It would be a nice bonus to feel sunlight on my face and see the dust cloud disappear without a trace. Of course I want to take shelter from the poison rain.

This might be a busy trip.

I remember on more than one occasion staying with someone in Indonesia who’s postal address was something along the lines of ‘down the road from Mr. Sudomo’s house’ or ‘past the grocery store then turn right at the town square)’... I’m guessing those streets didn’t have names.

I like these kinds of places because they have resisted our urge to make order out of everything in our surroundings.

Finding your way around can be a little confusing, especially on foggy days, or when the wind blows the leaves around and calls your name.

I´ve been there two times, March 1st and 2nd in Buenos Aires. I was so moved by this song… I almost cried. Beautiful moment.

Not all the streets have names here. And some of them are as prosaic as “First Row, Housing.” Not really a name, in my consideration.

Still, the place is very interesting, and deserves an extended stay.

But most of all, I want to tear down these walls that hold me inside.