“Yes, Sra. Martínez. For them as well, thank you.”Sra. Martínez outdid herself with the local equivalent of huevos rancheros and something that ...ooked and tasted like a mini breakfast burrito with rice and beans and a double measure of jalapeño, along with her own surtido, a mix of sliced cauliflower and carrots in a powerful vinagrette. And coffee. Hot and strong and lots of it.Sated, the breakfast table a wreck and our stomachs content along with the other hungers we’d satisfied earlier, we. I looked around for a place to sit and then settled on a fallen log. I made my way to it and then sat down with a sigh of despair. What am I going to do? We can't stay here any longer and I don't know If I can trust myself on the drive home. I lowered my head into my hands and began to cry. This time the tears were short and a feeling of wellness began to wash over me as they dried. I felt better. What is wrong with me? Why are my emotions all out of whack? What is going on? A rustling caught. As they bent over the man, a bullet kicked up the dirt between them. A young girl's voice shouted, "STAND UP, AN' STICK YER HANDS IN THE AIR!"A pre-teen girl holding a rifle came out from behind some rocks and said, "Ya leave my pa alone! Ya've done kilt 'im an' robbed 'im! Ain't that enough devilment?"She came between the men and Ada, and stood with her back to the mule. Fortunately, she wasn't pointing the rifle directly at the men, because she pulled the trigger when Ada head-butted her in. On one of my trips I was approaching a deserted picnic area outside a village with public loo still open. As I parked my bike at the side and did a couple of leg stretch exercises, I saw another racing bike round the back with no rider in sight. I went in and was surprised to see an older tall lycra clad gent pulling up his breeks round his bare arse. Apologising I went about my business as he left. There is something about the glancing look of `recognition`that clicks in the mind from previous.