It is still my belief that in this city you can find anything, it just requires some serious effort. Hence, as soon as I was mobile, I rode the Metro to the end, walked uphill along the side of a freeway for half an hour, through slums (with often not one but two satellite dishes and some nice surrounding infrastructure; much nicer slums than South Africa or Russia), piles of garbage that one can’t help but think bodies could be amidst, past the mid-city forest, and to my destination. It turns out an Australian passport can get you anywhere, even into a Mexican military base. Once therein, I bought modelling supplies. My Spanish comprehension is somewhat skewed; I can’t explain I want the mail, but I can ask for sheets of high-impact styrene. Not a single photo of this adventurito, given my erroneous belief I couldn’t take a camera into a military base.
Unrelated to the purpose of this journal, but still interesting, I direct you all to our nation’s finest political party. A fairly solid platform, though my support was met by my lovely lady-friend’s “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo”.
Finally, farewell to Leigh Swancott, now likely trying to overthrow the oppressive political system of the hereafter, or, at the least, discussing it seriously in some divine dive.