Still in the grip of the fountain fascination, I am almost through it, I think. I do believe that I can see the end of this tunnel of fixation.
This fountain memorializes something. The choice of stone for the oval plaque in the center appears to have been an unfortunate one. I would love to be able to see this fountain as it was in its day. So far I have found nothing to read relating to it. I will inquire about it of the old people up there.
There is one word in that oval that is nearly legible. I intend to do a pencil and paper . . . I cannot remember what the term for that is. Anyway, I shall engage in some lunacy in an attempt to determine what that word is. Seeing an old, long-haired gringo engage in such goofiness entertains the Mexican people to no end. I am not the first, and I won’t be the last.