El horizonte me llama, e inútilmente lo persigo. Nubes de plata rodando sobre un azul mar sobre la tierra; nubes de un rojo agonizante cuando cae la tarde y otra vez cuando la noche muere. Paisajes de tierra, roca y concreto; postes y cables, aves y lluvia… Vienen, van, caen y renacen, y el horizonte, siempre ahí, cambiante…

Esto es Tijuana.

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Posted on Sunday, 1 September
Tagged as: Tijuana Horizonte
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