Brisk is the aftermath,
the afterbirth of soiled sweat:
Cartagena’s huskily jeweled breath,
Monteria’s unassuming, all-consuming
swelter—
Bogota heralds relief,
reprieve in boreal breeze—
thrumming madly
in the Incessant hive of activity.
Sprawling ravenously,
sky’s scraped haphazardly,
amidst a decadence unknown—
ruins anachronistic
but for the well-worn acclimation
into modernity.
A cacophony seems arcane
In retrospect,
yet the distance of digestion
allows clarity to fine-tune
—dissect & demarcate—
the influx of experience.
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