moleslog06282007

Water is a problem I will have to solve.

The hotel brings a cup in a sealed plastic bag, but what's that in the pitcher? I've drank soda since I touched down; I'm crawling with the sweetness of it. Still I swallowed something.

Mother, who poisoned me?

Could it have been on the tacos at Autobuses del Norte, did I swallow as I showered?

I did brush my teeth with the water in the pitcher.

My guts wring the innocent with the guilty. I'll have starlight in my belly, but before I sleep I need more -- water.

There'll be a liquor store or something at the plaza. It's only half a block, but the road slants up. Step.

Step step.

Sadly, typing doesn't help.