An accident on Benito Juarez, car and bus stuck together in Friday traffic, backed up traffic all the way to the posada. And, horns blared for more than half an hour.
As I was climbing my way through the traffic, I realized that I have been here long enough to know where I will see people I recognize. I know where people eat and what and of something’s different because I have my own routine that, even when there’s an accident or traffic, is fairly predictable.
Usually I find this comforting, but last night as I noticed a man keeping pace with me, I realized that I need to mix things up, find some new roads home.
shewhodaresnothing 