There are no strange coincidences when you drink Mescal. Incredible soul choices.

The mystery of Will is examined through the metaphor of a be-ing being in a bar.

“I drink mescal ‘till the gusano hits my lips, then in drunkenness holler about strange coincidences. The next day, head pounding, it’s clear events from worms burrowing to wormholes have Will’s grin.

Oh, the soul choices we make.”