8:00 pm
Tonight it's quiet. It's been a hot day, finally cooling off. Flocks of birds fly across the horizon as the sun begins to set. Birds settle in nearby trees and cars pass by. The distant freeway echoes up the canyon and I imagine it to be a rushing river. Today an Argentinean peace activist was shot and murdered in his car. They're speculating the bullets were meant for his stage manager, but no one knows for sure. He played guitar, sang songs of love and freedom. His voice was as gentle as his guitar. Will it ring out louder now?
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