Travel Sketch: From Los Angeles to Brasil

A Plague, A Marriage

I don’t know if I can stand this place anymore, I thought to myself. It was a Thursday. I was sure it was a Thursday. It was, in fact, a Friday. But it mattered none, as the titles of days had lost their significance. Even the hour or minute was no more relevant than the ticking second-hand of a fictional wristwatch. Was I in the very middle of the cala…