Why does it rain so much, momma?

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A rainy day          Popayán El Cauca, Colombia


 

Why does it rain so much, momma? It’s the angels, Darling. They’re crying. 


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In the fog         Chipre, Manizales, Caldas, Colombia


At ten o’clock in the morning the temperature was twenty-four degrees, and it rained. For the beginning of February, the temperature was in the usual range, but the rains weren’t. A drizzle could be, but the streets woke up to find themselves flooded. They said that El Niño had brought the early rains, that normally they belonged to the months of March and May.

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Viewpoint        Manizales, Caldas, Colombia


Those things, and more were mentioned to explain what they didn’t understand, for though they had many opinions; nobody knew why it rained so much.


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In this game we all participate

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Contemplation          Panama city, Panama.


 

This is not decided by us, nor by God or his Angels.


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The last ride         Granada City, Granada Province, Nicaragua


It is Life’s retaliation, the third protagonist in the Theatre of Existence. For he has never seen eye to eye along with Time, and furthermore, he is perfectly attuned to Death, the other side of his face.


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The streets         Cochabamba City, Cochabamba Province,  Bolivia


 

Since the beginning of the world it has been thus, and I do not foresee any point in which it may change. We all participate in this game: some of us knowingly, others perhaps not.


 

 

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Engraved into our skin

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Shared moment            Ibarra, Imbabura, Ecuador


 

But, to some of us, it may come to pass that in our life, we run into an event, not even Time can erase.

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Sunset in the highland          Carretera a Potosí, Potosí, Bolivia


 

Almost like a tattoo, it’s so deeply engraved into our skin, it just barely fades with the passage of the afore mentioned time;

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Heaven’s light          Coroico, Las Yungas, Bolivia

 because, against all odds and in spite of them, the awareness of these kind of episodes that have so irreversibly marked us, remains indelible and enduring, as they land in some hidden part of our soul, where finally they are to be kept forever.


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The vision of a woman

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A rustic landscape   Renacer Hostel, Villa de Leyva, Boyacá. Colombia


Amelia appeared. So silently that I never noticed her arrival.

Atardecer del altiplano Hostal Renacer, Villa de Leyva, Boyacá, Colombia
Sunset in the highlands   Renacer Hostel, Villa de Leyva, Boyacá, Colombia

I saw her before me, a vision of the most beautiful woman; with a beer in each hand and a smile on her lips. She offered me one of the beers, and immediately after from her hands a cigarette materialized, which she also shared with me.

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Dusk         Renacer Hostel, Villa de Leyva, Boyacá, Colombia


I felt transported back to Bogotá, to that night in which we met: when in the midst of that frosty cold we placidly smoked in the street. A night in which I felt as if I were enjoying a summer beach.


 

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Back to Bolivia

La escuela La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
Out of school           La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

A few months later, due to various commitments involving the project, I left Bolivia, and I briefly went back to Bogotá.

Saliendo de clases La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
At noon          La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

Though I tried as hard as possible; I never found a clue leading me back to Amelia. She had vanished without leaving any mark of her passage.

A la orilla del río Región de Pastaza, Ecuador
River’s edge           Ecuadorian Amazon, Pastaza, Ecuador

I travelled overland, back to Bolivia. In Ecuador, I visited other medical camps belonging to the organization. I travelled to the Peruvian Amazon, and also visited more medical camps in the jungle. Finally, I arrived back to Bolivia.


 

 

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The cornice La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

What could have been

La cornisa La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
The cornice        La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

 

My life now belonged to a continuous battle in the Bolivian Amazon Region, where I would remain for several years as part of that project in those far away zones in the jungle.

Al balcón La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
At the balcony        La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

 

My job offered me the opportunity to fight against my openly declared enemies and snatch away and their chances at doing more of their mischief.

El oro de los grillos La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
El oro de los grillos (grasshopper’s gold )          La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

Occasionally I thought of that beautiful woman, who had so briefly waltzed through my life’s stage. Those occasions were always tinged by a slight nostalgia of what could have been.


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Amelia

La Esperanza Calles de La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
Hope Street           La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

 

I decided not to return to Bogotá inasmuch as possible, at least, for a very long time.

 

En la fachada Calles de La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
The façade           La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

 

 The streets reminded of Amelia. She was projected into the music of its bars; singing and acting out, with her unique style, as if she were the performing star. The aromas in the streets, they made me think about that exquisite fragrance suspended in the air, when we sat so close together talking that night.

Plaza Bolivar Calles de La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia
Plaza Bolivar           La Candelaria, Bogotá, Colombia

 

How long ago was that?

Too much, I’d say…


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Death and Time

Rectory's Façade, Universidad Autónoma de México (UNAM), México City, México

The Rectory’s façade           Universidad Autónoma de México, México


 

If I had to bet my money on either Death or Time: I would place it all on the second one of them. This I can say without a trace of doubt in my mind.

 


 

 Catrina Calle de Chihuahua ciudad de México, México
The Catrina           Chihuahua Street, México City, México

I’ve never run into a stiff. I haven’t seen them, but I can imagine them; those poor ghosts running around like lost souls. Meanwhile, Time devours them still, for anyhow, he has more than enough time to do it. I can visualize them as the years run past, everyday becoming paler, until they finally end up almost transparent, a shadow of what once they were.


Detalle de la fachada Edificio Esmeralda, México City, México
Detail of the Façade            Esmeralda Building, México City, México

 And, what can be said about their memories? Surely, Time has pinched them, for if he had a Mom; she wouldn’t be safe from him either.


 

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