more to write about

So much to write about...




Dogs...
Dogs here break my heart and warm it... almost all of them have this cute mutt smile that makes you want to go up and hug it. Letting its raspy toungue lick your salt stained face. They all look related and probably are... you can hear packs of them play at different times in the day and night...

And then you can hear their cries.

We aren't sure what they're from, whether against man, machine or beast, but almost every night you can count on them. Cries that cause you to peer out your window, wondering if its even safe for you to step out.

And then you can see their wounds.

Wounds that are mortal. Chunks of skin torn off. Maybe from a hot muffler pipe or the axle of the car they were sleeping under as it rolled away. Maybe from the moped that side swiped it, or perhaps aimed. Maybe from the boot of a man disatisfied. There's one puppy that I watched slowly die over a week of my passing by. It had a 3 inch diameter hole just below its rib cage. A hole that I believe revealed part of it's stomach. It was relatively healthy the first day, save the hole that seemed somewhere between surgical and haphazard. and over the week it got thinner and thinner, till a skin bag of bones was eating through the trash. Now I don't see it anymore.

And then you can see their breath.

You walk by so many dogs throughout the day, that the ones sleeping always make you wonder if they're dead. Usually I pause look for a breath, as if I could do something if it didn't breathe. You don't always see a breath, but you can never be sure. When you do, though, it's glorious.