baroque breakfast

streams of continental foodstuffs for breakfast, endless abundance.
Met my uncles mom, and drove around las cruces witnessing several mural sized stained-glass windows she has produced. from the smells of the science and engineering wing at the university, to the smells of a hospice, we saw her grand, awe-inspiring, murals of new mexican landscapes and iconography. drove to old mesilla, where billy the kid has laid some ground. found a dilapidated house with pomegranate trees in front. wondering the streets of this old town was a lone native american dressed the part, playing a flute, and when I heard him, I knew I was somewhere far, far away. I had distanced myself from the usual glimpses of culture and society that I have become somewhat desensitized in witnessing.
Went to Dripping Springs and found a pasture, pasture? rolling expanse, filled with cacti that grow prickly pears, I cut one open and the bright purple fruit dripped all over the tan ground. Tasted horrid.
For my uncles birthday we went to the Double Eagle restaurant, a time warp back into the renaissance. Huge portraits of strangers with gold frames 10 inches thick, chandeliers the size of cars hung from a silver ceiling, everything floral, mood-lit, garish and old. good food.