Puebla
White sand between toes white sand in noseslost on a beach and you can't speak the language lost in a small city rough cobblestone streetseverything brought to colors of pale orange.Flick of a wrist as she moves slow though the heart inside erratically beats and feels fit to escape the rib-cage that so delicately encasesmoves as wheat grass in an open field pale eyes likewhite birds fighting against the horizon.