Quiet night in San Francisco. Just me and Los Piojos. I gave up the fuzzy sweater for a bright orange Holland jacket earlier today. I shared the future life plans, he shared the story of Aimee's trip to Nashville. We walked about 3 miles to grab Argentinean empanadas. I wanted a piece of home and some peace away from the drunken calamities of the previous night.
We also talked about me sneaking back in through Canada. The future cannot come soon enough.
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Me dicen el Matador de los cien barrios porteños, No tengo de que tener miedo, Mis palabras son balas, balas de paz, balas de justicia, Soy la voz de los que hicieron callar sin razón, por el sólo hecho de pensar distinto.
The man behind Expreso Matador
Nicolás Cervantes, on his third life, pondering on a lot of things, and hustling in a lot of places.
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