Dear Diary, Today is the 48th day that I have been on the quest for my visa. Much has transpired since my last report to you: friendships have been mended, lost, and left to die on the side of the road, and I have had to forgo dreams of Tahitian Christmases and New Years...sometimes I question what I am fighting for...yet I persist. Sleep deprived, sick, abandoned by one whom I thought was of my closest allies, I arrived in the frigid city of Chicago so that I may spend hours in the barren bureau of passports. After I successfully overcame the questions of the host and provided the necessary plastic token for recompense, I was rejoined with my amended passport. Together we ran off to the consulate of France so that he may approve of her pages. While I was first informed that this would be the last trial, I was grievously misled as we were separated again. I must return tomorrow, he says, between the hours of 9 and Noon. While the finale of this saga must assuredly be near, I exist with baited, raspy breath. This is not the first last hurdle I have encountered. Nevertheless, I voyage on the trains and roam the streets, and soon I will briefly be reunited with my kin for a ritual feast at the restaurant located where the owls hoot. Although I may dine on the breasts and thighs of the local poultry, they will not quench my true desire. Tahiti, my dear, we will be reunited soon, for both struggles and dreams unravel together. Sincerely, The cold, yet ever-Wandering Mexican
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 22:54:13 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015