In some way I think in a baseball player, running from one… basement? to the other. I don’t know the baseball rules.
It was time to harvest I think, around here, Cocachacra, the farmers sell sugar and watermelons in the highway to the travelers and some kilometers ahead in a little town next to a river they sell shrimp pancakes. I see this scene with a bit of sadness, but it wasn’t there when I took the photograph. Actually the countryside looked quite happy that time.