You're feeling drowsy while driving late at night in the American southwest. The lines in the road blur together, and you think to yourself, "I need to pull over..." The desert gas station is blurry and lit with fluorescent lights, and as you stumble in there's a shabby guy selling old prints by a roadside stand. You don't remember when you got back in your car and started driving again - but when the sun started to come up again you could see one of those old prints in your passenger seat, but focusing on it proves difficult.
Mackazona isn't a real place, but it's a state that exists as a liminal space - you could have died driving that late at night, but here you are surviving. That in-be...