These words have legs.

And so I stand on the balcony across El Templo de Augustín, next to a severely limp Mexican flag and tattered vinyl plants on the brisk morning. It’s been raining for days and it’s supposed to rain a few more. To my left is a gathering of gray clouds, as well at my right, but right now, the sky above me is as clear and as blue as I’ve ever seen it. If we don’t hurry we’ll be stuck in the afternoon drench for a second day. And as I wait, I can hear the shops rolling up their doors in a city that apparently sleeps in. And as things are finally getting to a start, I should probably join them.