Morning walk. An ambulance siren goes off and, at the same time, my headphones on shuffle decide to play ¡Pum-Pum! ¡Bang-Bang! by Los Esquizitos. I can’t tell anymore whether the sound is coming from the street or from my headphones — maybe the city decided to enter the song. I try to cover the city with music, but the song begins just like the street: sirens, noise. The music doesn’t drown anything out; it blends in.
I walk with the feeling of listening to the same thing twice. The street imitates the song, or the song imitates the street. I take off one earbud for a second, just to make sure the city is still there.
Here comes the elderly man who every morning carries a black plastic bag with him and seems to be another inhabitant of the Alameda, one of those who even sleep there.
Overstimulated from early on; this (like most things for me) is an addiction. The city is an addiction.
Photography by Roberto Alonso Galeana Guerra
