In Mexico, a man can truly get lost. And, if you're a bank robber, or maybe someone who's committed a fucked up, crazy crime, then that's a good thing. But hiding takes it's toll. At first you don't realize it but, soon the identity that you tried to shed starts getting pissed and knocking at your insides. You know, when dealing with deep depression and sad shit, it's cool to pretend like nothing is wrong. That, sometimes, works. But, eventually, you got to call a goddamn spade a spade and be like , 'Yo, I'm fucked up and I got to make a change.'