Cataca
This article reprinted from the John T Unger Weblog. The original article can be found online:
http://www.igotnozen.com/2005/07/postcards_from_.html
© 2008, John T Unger
The lands we inhabit have become unsuited to men of great heart—
In Cataca, the houses rise from the lake on slender stilts, strikingly painted in a profusion of bright colors. Aching Island primaries bellow in the swelter of a burning sun; the shimmer of heat waves cast as refractory rainbows sparking from steel roofs. Hanging all about, twisting slightly in the light breeze, festoons of bamboo cages are packed with iguanas, a staple of the native cuisine. Flowering vines flow from rafter and deck to waver just above the deep, smooth water. Azure and ruby colored hummingbirds arabesque between the vine flowers and waterlillies, colliding on occasion with enormous emerald dragonflies.
Let's move to the saturated land of Mr. Muerte. Distracted by cries of love and moans of sorrow issuing from night's windows under noon's sun, we can stumble happily over the corpses of sad beggars.
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