Probando

Probando by Jesse Ricke


As the culmination of my time abroad I offer this piece of art. Stories of joy and home sickness and death and transformation emerge from the chaotic ambience coalescing into music.  

Coca leaves taste like $%!#.


The dusty hallway I walked up with Richie and Molly to buy my charango from a old man covered in sawdust and filled with music.


Banana on pizza.


The lightness of the woman sleeping in the bus seat beside me.


Playing Nirvana with a lumberjack, attracting attention in the sun.


Little plastic cup filled from a bottle of beer, both of which are passed to me. Drink, fill, pass it on.


Following brass bands and kids up and down the crumbling streets.


Derby hats on little old ladies that go up and down and up and down the mountain.


The churro lady.


Matt in the galleries of the smiling god.


Pulverized, not mashed, potatoes.


School kid sing-alongs and the digitized wonder of seeing ones self sing, like a maniac, for the first time.


San Luis grande, sin gas.


Thanks for sharing the summer with me. To everyone, get out into the world and get a little of the biggness on you.

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