May 7th 2014 Pitillal, Mexico
Reflections of a morning spent being sold a timeshare in Puerto Vallarta. Not just dead...this place is the act of death itself. A death the timid look for—one so enticing. Small administered doses to numb the heart a bit to forget. Enough to lull the brain so sleep can come. Enough for peace. The conversations to end. To defeat all further quest ions with the reply, "because I deserve it." I pause and ask , will songs be sung in its corridors at night? Oil be put to canvas, ink to paper? Will there be children in footed pajamas outside after bedtime laughing and dancing under starry night skies? Where, near the foyer? Near the guard shack? By the edge of the pristine green lit infinity pool? What will we create in these palaces on the hill, in these little villas of death that will make us yearn to be alive? Tell me, because time is already set against us.