San Miguel de Allende

Oh San Miguel, how captivating you were with your colonial architecture dripping with terracotta paint tinted with yellow hues. Your winding streets capture all the beginnings and the never-ending loose strings of the many Mexican revolutions. We luckily caught you right before El Dia de Los Muertos, just in time to experience the brewing festivities. And here is what I captured: 

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Gradually I keep picking up ideas on what I want for my future home. Number one on the list? Plants and lots of natural light. 

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Faces: Mexico

As I continue on my trip, which has been both a constant thrill and a gargantuan challenge, I have planned to improve one of my hobbies/interest/skill very dear to my person: photography. And though nowadays it seems that anyone with an apt camera device can be a photographer, I certainly believe it takes more than just pointing, shooting, and filter. For countless years I have more than enjoyed capturing images and through those years I have certainly developed a style, composition, and a color palette preference. Therefore, right this minute, I believe it is the time I proclaim myself a photographer (how strange to actually express the title). Before my trip, I began this series, with the purpose of showing the world the faces that come and go around me. To further expand my street photography interest, I present to you, the many Faces of Mexico. 

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Post-earthquake a few friends and I visited nearby towns in Morelos. Here, I capture a sincere smile to a passing boy who was more than ecstatic for juice. 
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Recounting his personal earthquake experience.

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Human assembly lines that were created to carry down supplies raise their arms to ignite silence so the cries of those under rubble can be heard.

1:14 pm

The plan for September 19th, 2017 was to get organized and to be productive. After much dilly-dallying with my affairs, weekend escapades to paradise lands and loafing around, that Tuesday was to be devoted to completing long-avoided errands. By 1 pm, I made the decision that in 15 mins I would begin arranging after I showered. By 1:13 pm, I was in the bathroom, when I noticed a change in my vision. For many years, I have “suffered” from low blood pressure and mild dizziness is quotidian. The swaying rapidly gained force and in a slight second I realized, this isn’t a flaw in my circulation, but rather a grievous adjustment of the Earth. I held on tightly to the sink, calming myself by repeating the sole mantra I will never forget, “this will end soon,” concentrating on the small window drowning the shower in white light. I paled at the sight of the walls moving like elastic, back and forth like a slow-motion video of gelatin on a plate. Somewhat late, but just in time, my reflexes to remove myself from a potentially crumbling building kicked in, and I ran down the steps. Everything after those estimated eternal twenty seconds and the days that followed can only be described as a helplessly confusing and a dreadfully long nightmare. 

The screams.

The barking.

The sirens.

The anguish.

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