The Añejo Blanco smell smearing inside. The visual effect of the vehement fever. The cocktail defining the conglomeration of sweetness. There is no hatred, there is no war, there are no lies... just love. It looks like a mountain in one of my photographs... far far away, neither revealing itself completely nor forbidding itself from being tasted. Ya yes the taste of bitter sweetness or sour bitterness. Brilliantly trying to hide the prominent ugliness of mind. I walked today with face towards the mystic sky.... drizzling down on to my face. Was it the tears of happiness or pain. I didn't look at the cross section, I didn't bother about the bright light of vehicles revealing my rabid face. Forcing myself to pray for something I hate most.