Inhale. Why does it smell like burning rubber? Inhale. Truck’s too close. Inhale.
“Oh wow 80s jams, okaaay!” Exhale.
The smell of fresh sweets and honey from Doña Pepa‘s, latch on to both nostrils as we ride por la avenida principal. As the sun beams onto my face, eyes all squinty, a soft gaze briefly focus’ on traditional architecture buildings painted pastel colors- blue, green, pink.
Inhale. Did that car just merge diagonally?
Inhale. The metro buses are packed like sardines. That’s a lot of people to cross that one street. Does anyone actually follow the lanes out here?
Inhale.
We’re almost there. Exhale.
Loud honks echo through the streets, anxiety rising, as vehicles stop short to inch their way into lanes that were nonexistent. Long vape puffs managed the tension headaches on trips to and from San Martin De Porres y Miraflores. The actual distance between both cities? 45mins. In traffic? One to two hours. There’s always traffic. Instead of reading or getting caught up in the stress of traffic, I got lost in the rhythm of songs.
Ya’ll ever hit a part of your trip when traveling, where things start to click in ways that you haven’t allowed yourself to even reflect upon? That moment when the world feels enormous and you feel like a speck in the universe. Yet somehow, everything you’ve ever wanted seems to reveal itself ever so clearly.
Don’t ask me why but something hit differently, as soon as this song played in the taxi that day.
-B
Life of Season X 
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