• A man walks slowly down the dusty street in a hot midday Mexico, a soggy newspaper underneath his arm. He comes to a modest fruit stand owned by an angry widow with one eye and a bad yeast infection, who's face can do no more than leer miserably to wanderers passerby. He looks among all of the badly discolored fruit and rotting product laid out before him before making his offer for an apple that displayed many bruises on it. The widow gives an answer with her nails-on-chalkboard voice and he carries on down the dusty street. Off into one alleyway between a whorehouse and local church, three men are burglarizing a young college student for money to purchase cocaine from a homeless person on the eastern side of town. Between a gun store and a preschool, two dogs were mating behind a trashcan that had the rotting leg of a stripper dangling out the side of it. He finally came to a nice place to sit down, a badly run cafe, poorly maintained and run by workers with no passion for life and deplorable attitudes. After being harassed by a waitress with a visible infection on her serving hand and an oddly-placed bump on her lip, she brings him a dirty mug of poorly-brewed coffee, made from beans that were harvested in misery and sorrow by nothing more than a slave to a drug lord who lives in bed with the government. After tasting the vile, awful texture of the coffee that would make dogs vomit, he lifted his soggy newspaper and read article after article of how the world was slowly being destroyed and eroding away. Word after word would cast feelings of divine entropy to the innocent as the guilty ran free, only to burn in the fires of mortality along with the rest. Murder, rape, murder and rape, rape and murder while raping someone else. Rape, rape, murder, pause, rape, and sodomy in the late afternoon. Coup de etats, betrayals, crime, and the everlasting internal struggle for man to feebly attempt to control his destiny, only to have that destiny with all of its dreams end in the hands of a greedy, fat, arrogant white man who smells his money, and strokes himself uncanny to the rest of the world for his affairs. The man, could not help but feel a bit troubled when he set the paper down, and took another achy swig of poorly depressing coffee.

    But suddenly, a blind man with but one ear and a body aged at the infernal wishes of God, saunters onto the steps of the building beside the cafe, and reaches into his guitar case. He pulls out an old classic guitar that has seen better days, and tunes it to perfection. His hands slide, guide, pluck and pick the strings to craft a beautiful, innocent, and inspiring melody that uplifted the hearts of all who could hear it. The man closed his eyes and saw rolling hills, children playing in the streets, gleaming coastlines, cool mountains, and love. Friendship, trust, compassion, and love. It was as if the song would dedicate every note to all of the good things that could come from the world, and from nature. When he finally ended the song, he gave a smile that transcended beauty and happiness, and everything felt for but one moment, that it was all coming full circle. All human life seemed now dignified and tolerable. He felt...content.

    Then a Mercedes passes by wildly, a pistol dangling out the window, and firing a stray bullet right into the old man, killing him instantly. Everyone just goes back to work.