Cesaria Evora, Essencia d'Vida

I've written about this before. How Latinamerica is certainly a group of similarities. Cusco could be a mixture of any of our rural towns in Mexico. But to say that would diminish the glory of this ancient place. The big stones don't let you forget that embedded in the city, traits of golden seniority shines through.

And the silence, inscribed in the middle of mountains, Cusco is, in so many ways different than Cartagena. While the first is almost in a meditative state, the second is busting with sounds of the Caribbean.

In the public library, people sit down to read the newspaper of the day. It reminded me of Vienna (and what me being 18 years old) seemed to be old men, reading the paper at Café Central.

Time spent playing cards at noon is possible amongst two painters, setting aside their folders, waiting for tourists to show up.

Layers of plaster and paint start showing evidences, traces our civilization.

The search for Divine is still present. Faith glows frailly as the devilish wind blows from the outside.

And we keep walking... Thinking we know where we're going but most probably wandering about, looking for some messages that might give us some meaning...