A few birds land on the water. Far away, a yellow mist blurs the volcanoes. Tláloc Hill stands out like a dark mass. Up closer, the “Chimalli Warrior,” an immense red metal statue, stands upright among small houses and buildings. The water ripples in slight furrows that rise and sink. The water reservoir looks big from this standpoint. It smells of sea, although the closest ocean is hundreds of miles away. It also smells like rotten algae, piled on the shore like layers of green moss. The water is a bit murky, like a silver mirror covered with vapor and fingerprints. The wind blows, dishevels and whizzes through some pines planted in rows on the other side of the road. At ground level, insects noisily jump from place to place, restless because of the stampede of human boots that has crossed the meadow. The grass covers patches of ground while others are bare. In the open, where there’s no weed, layers of white salt cover the earth. [...]
Weather
in ENCYCLOPEDIA