Isn't it strange that you can cause tremors from halfway across the world?

Isn't it strange that you can cause tremors from halfway across the world? A sad muse on a bicycle. Where will you swim next?

And I'm on foot here, in this desert, wishing for dry electric storms. Juanico and I day-dream about escaping to the Virgen de Saliente with tragic images pressed to our chests, barefoot. Pilar said we worship images of the ones who didn't want to be worshipped.

Is a memory an image? Is it possible to worship memories? Is this called nostalgia?