I sit in the yellow chair, worn from rain and weary bodies
The breeze blows my stray stands of hair as I doze off, listening to ladies singing along to Akon and other popular American music.
The rich smell of beans and some other fragrance, reminding me of Thanksgiving, fills the air.
To my left, a joyful game of soccer; to my right, purple, brown, and black mountains whose tips kiss the clouds.

Honduras.