I am presently beaten: I have been looking on and off for the last two weeks for photos I had taken of a protest in Mexico City. Up until 2010, I was still taking printed photos on an analogue camera and have two large bins where they should be.
They are not.
I had even written out the post which is sitting in my Draft column, determined that the next post be the protest one.
It is not.
Instead, there was a rush back into lives past lived. I have always felt that Serendipity likes to visit me once in a while. Many of the memories were like old friends that I was elated in seeing. Others were like that shock of seeing how changed that grade school friend had become where you instinctually pull a face that you realize only all too late that you shouldn’t have made.
And then, there are the Blue People. Someone once theorized that there are Blue People who take something of yours and hide it. You practically tear down the place, searching for that object (in my case, the photos) with no luck. It is only when you stop searching that the object reappears.
Whatever the story, I’ve decided that I will do something more productive and upload some of the photos I’ve found. And perhaps then, the Blue People will help me “find” my photos.
Me in 1997. I had my hair braided by a friend of mine who was also on the bus.
This was the ceiling of a church in Oaxaca City. It is the family tree of the man who donated the money to build the church.
This is Giovanni Aloi on horseback. He is what they call a “rejoneador”, a mounted matador. This was taken in the Feria de Texcoco.
This is a picador who is part of Enrique Ponce’s personal team. I just love the geometry of this.
This is a street in San Francisco that I’ve always loved looking down. It was one of those nostalgic scenes that I took everywhere with me. So much so that you can see the black specs of grime from being stuff in one agenda and then another.
One of my soccer shots.
Me, at work.