Granada

Granada is hot and everything moves slower in the heat. It´s like this thin sheet of sleep that descends over a place-makes each step a little shorter, each swing of the arm a little gentler. I have been trying to muster the energy to explore, but mostly i am wanting to sit and drink juice and get lost in nothingness. The buildings in the center of the town are big and bright and a beautiful contrast to the seamlessness of the blue sky. I haven´s seen clouds since returning to the mainland. So much new inside so much old and lots left to memory. A history of fire. A city burned by American William Walker who, vigilante army in tow, declared himself ´President of Nicaragua´. Soon thereafter, facing defeat, he burned the city of Granada before fleeing the country. It is strange and scary steps we follow as US citizens in Nicaragua. In practically anywhere. So there are ruins turned parks, old stone walls turned trellises for creeping vines, benches, sitting stones. It is good to be doing everything slowly, to have the time to write, to remind myself of being solitary.