A Dry Spell

My wife and I have called Zihuatanejo, Mexico home for a little over three and a half years now. Things that used to amaze me, because they were so different than what I had become accustomed to my first 50 years on earth, now scarcely warrant a second look. I pass a dozen or more of these tiny shops, barely wide enough for a single person, every time I walk the streets surrounding the market yet they are no longer different enough that I deem them worthy of photographing. Would I ever see something like this on the streets of small town America, not very likely (especially with the unrefrigerated chickens) and if I did I would have my camera out in a second. Here I've seen it hundreds of times and it hardly registers, so it is no wonder I occasionally struggle to find subjects. I need to open my eyes wider, see things differently (again) and shoot, shoot, shoot.