The Sun & the Scorpion

I knew when we descended into Guanajuato that I would always remember the moment. The city was a riotous jumble of color, like someone had thrown a handful of rainbow confetti across the barren brown earth of the mountain. It collected in the crumpled folds. I looked over at you in awe. This was my city—the one I picked out—and I thought I was coming home.   

Under the jumble of buildings was an extensive maze of dark tunnels, blasted through the rock. Zipping through it in the Uber, you said you felt like James Bond. We followed the red taillights through the dark until we broke suddenly into bright sunlight, and were deposited in front of a heavy wooden door in a narrow cobblestone street. So began what I thought was a dream.