But Don't Ask About the Smell of the Butcher Down the Block

Every day, I walk on the street I live on here in San Miguel. It's called Animas.

Sometimes I walk to the right out my door and sometimes the left. The left goes past the crafts market and vegetable market, while the right opens up other possibilities. I always end up passing the market in one direction of the other.

Which means turning the corner onto my street.

Where I am blasted daily with the rich smell of tortillas frying from the local tortilla factory. The exhaust blows out of this window right onto the sidewalk.

I've gotten used to the rich corn exhaust. I'll miss it when I got home.