a veces escribo y tomo fotos
I saw the shadow of my bicycle from tree to tree as I rode atop the Los Angeles Riverbed between the 105 and the 91 freeway going south. I saw the silhouette of a little girl riding her bike on an afternoon sunset after she finished her homework and had dinner, and I remembered. I… Continue reading Recalling Memories: Riding Along the LA River
It had been years, probably since I was in elementary school, that I had pulled my hair straight back into a bun. I made sure, as I always did, that there were no little cuernitos sticking out. I probably did my hair about five times until it was as slick as it could be. “Parece… Continue reading Labios en Rojo – Lips in Red
Las lineas: Lineas que existen. Linease que creamos. Lineas que dividen. Una tierra. Ilusión de dos. Mexico. Estados Unidos. Una flor. Cables de luz. Intersección. Por que nací de un lado, cruzo libremente—al fin de todo, una ilusión de division que dejamos existir en la realidad. Crucé a Mexicali el fin de semana pasado y tomé esta foto.… Continue reading Las Lineas, Fronteras, Dos Tierras, Como le Llamen
Memories, recollections, photographs from Ayotzinapa events while I lived in Mexico.
I march because I am agitated — Eduardo Carballo Lopez, Instituto Tecnologico y de Estudios Superiores de Occidente (ITESO) My parents, my grandparents are drained — Luis Alberto, Universidad del Valle de Atemajac (UNIVA) We are irritated of the situation in this country, there are no answers for anything, only repression — Ricardo de Jesus… Continue reading Ante La Represión, La Organización: Estudiantes Jalisciences Presentes
The warm tungsten lights glowed in the streets of Oaxaca de Juarez. The evening unfolded into a black and white scene. It was my last night in the city and the wanderlust passion elevated me to a zealous dimension. I set out on this journey to fulfill a childhood dream, to grow, to rekindle my… Continue reading Noche En Oaxaca: El Relato De Una Enamorada
De pequeña me perdia en la jungla en la casa de mi abuelita. Su majestuosidad me cautivaba. En el transcurso de los años que visito la casa de mis abuelos en Milpillas de Allende, no cesa de sorprenderme la vitalidad de su huerta, y vivo una aventura al adentrarme en ella. Cazos y baldes oxidados… Continue reading Mamá Conchita’s Garden
