Warm breezes. Darkening skies.
I’ve had a few “I hate Mexico” days lately, but the rainy season brings me back to why I love it here. These are the things that make up my neighborhood:
A guy racing by on his bicycle, an orange basket strapped to the back.
The pan dulce guy riding his bicycle down the street at 8 a.m., and then again at 4 p.m., his yellow and white striped conchas sitting snugly under a plastic sheet.
The norteño-themed taco guys, scrubbing their grill and closing up for the day.
The Condesa hipsters sitting outside Pizza Amore in flannel shirts and black-frame glasses.
The little ice cream truck at Parque Mexico.