This is the view from my apartment, looking down. It rains, taxi cabs queue, sirens flash, and uniformed school kids cross. Umbrellas, soccer balls, and believe it or not, bagpipes are the norm. Bells echo from the around-the-corner church, boy scouts race in colored shorts, and ambulantes want everyone to buy everything, this is the view from my apartment, looking down. Horns sound, joggers stop, go, stop again, and dogs without leashes chase inca doves, this is the view from my apartment, looking down. Motos, bicis, buses, and everyday pedestrians pass, robins sing, hummingbirds hum, and Michoacán ice is sold within earshot, this is the view from my apartment, looking down. There is elote, baton twirling, and a dance troupe, there are tamales, blue corn quesadillas, crosswords, suits, naps, sleeping grandparents, lovers, sword fights (seriously), popsicles, skateboards, chicles, cactuses, stick brooms, teenagers, “tunas!” and there are always taxis. This is the view from my apartment after it rains, looking down.
My Periphery 