I looked for her again this year in Oaxaca. Sleeping on cardboard on the cobblestone street by the Zocala. I couldn't find her for a few days and began to think the worst. And then there she was, sleeping in a chair stooped over with a blanket over her head. She seemed grateful, or appreciative of some food and some pesos but I handed her a photograph of herself from last year and she smiled. Then she laughed and laughed and I could hear the little muchacha she still is inside.
Our Lady of the Calle.