They were swaying above our heads, between fear and innocence. Nearby, the little grave with its falling fence and cross.
So much grief and so much lost to time.
I tried to capture the essence of what I saw, of my own losses.
I walked around in silence, looking at all these dancers and little people, some covered in mud, others in grass,
all keeping that same expression as the day were born.
The absurd of beauty and grief united en La Sombra Del Tiempo.
la isla de las munecas ( The Island Of The Dolls).
In the heart of Mexico City, in Xochimilco, right in the swamps, there is a tiny Island called Santa Barrera’s chiampa..
About fifty years ago, a man lived on this island with his daughter. She was seven when he found her drowned.
He buried her on the island. At night he heard strange noises. He was convinced that bad spirits came to haunt her grave.
He proceeded to hang her dolls to chase them away. During many years, he collected dolls and scattered them all around.
He has now passed away, but the dolls stay, hanging, as well as defying time.
so i’m dropping seeds
in foreign soil
to sprout in the light
of every tomorrow
that i will not see