There are many buildings like this in Valladolid. If you don’t get off of the town square, or beyond the bus depot, you’ll never see them. Their walls are covered in layers of paint mixed with patchwork. Color over color over color. The walls pock marked with decay from the jungle weather. Heat, hot, humid. Their old wood doors look like they could be pushed open with a finger, or maybe a swift kick with a foot.
I can’t tell you where this building is. It’s somewhere in town. Within a few blocks of the square. But that’s not the point. It’s one of those places that need to be discovered, come upon, found. It was one of those buildings that when seen, I want to just stand across the street from it and hang out with it awhile. Study it. A wall with soul.
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