Scenes from the chaotic, drunken week passed before my eyes. There was a face I did not recognize, a good looking Aztec kid with amber eyes, yellow hair and beautiful straight black eyebrows. I saw myself asking someone I barely knew to buy me a beer in a bar on Insurgentes, and getting a nasty push to the floor. I saw myself pull a knife on someone who followed me out of a fag bar on Coahuilla and tried to rob me. I felt the friendly, steadying hands of people who had helped me home.
"Take it easy, guero." My friend Hector standing there, solid and virile, walking his dog. Carlos running for a taxi libre. Tenoch with his malicious bitch smile. The faces blended together in a nightmare, spoke to me in a strange moaning idiot voice that I could not understand at first and finally could not hear.
I woke up around noon today and sat for a long time on the edge of the bed in this crappy hotel with one shoe dangling from my hand. I dabbed water on my face, put on my coat, grabbed my backpack, lit a Lucky and left.
I am now without funds - and without means. I know what I have to do. I am ready to take any risk, to proceed to any extreme of action. Like a saint or a wanted criminal with nothing to lose, I have now stepped beyond the claims of my nagging, cautious, aging, frightened flesh.