A ray of sun broke through the water's surface to reveal scratches on some jellyfish, silver lightning bolts running down their sides. The prettiest of all were the ones that bore scars.

There exists a world where we define ourselves with car models, business cards and clothing labels. There is also a fleeting world where, among our dearest strangers, we have brief moments of clarity.

It’s 3 a.m. and I have surrendered to a stumbling, magical tango.

You tricked your hands but not your gut. It is here, deep in your belly, that Loneliness sets up shop, shakes out a blanket on the futon, makes a key copy and settles in.

I was dodging stray dogs in colorful coats, faltering at every 800 peso deep-fried cheese-jammed empanada stand, hair frizzing from the sweat bursting through previously uncharted scalp pores.

The trees’ Peter Pan hats cried for attention atop their boring, indistinguishable, naked structures. They reminded me of some past acquaintances.