Lying on my bed in The World’s Most Dangerous City and I’m tired. Beyond tired after a busy couple of weeks. I went out and got drunk last night and it was just like back home. Boring, uneventful, sterile.
I’m thinking about Utila, thinking about how easy it would have been to stay. I see myself doing my Dive Master there, how things change. Maybe I’ll go back. I should have at least stayed this weekend. This city, San Pedro Sula, is terrible, like La Ceiba, nothing to do. Hot hot like the devil is waiting for me out there, and with more murders per day than anywhere else in the world he might well be.
And it’s a beautiful kind of pain I’m feeling right now because although I have just left a place I love, I know there’ll be somewhere else for my love to find, tomorrow, next week, next month, who knows, and the excitement to find it is a very good thing.