Morning

I get up around 6:30 each day. I open my eyes to a dark house (shutters cover my windows and only small beams of light penetrate the cracks). I get up, put on my shoes and a jacket and open the door, eyes squinting in preparation for a waking world outside.

A particularly beautiful morning with cotton ball clouds, light breaking over the ridge and a view of Nahualá. 

Corn stalks, doubled and dried, waiting to be cleared out.

It might be a latrine, but it's a beautiful latrine.