Nuestra Abuelíta en la Zocala
Nuestra querida abuela. Our Lady of the Calle.
Nuestra querida abuela. Our Lady of the Calle.
When she saw the photograph of herself from last year. Bowing at her feet. Nuestro querida abuela.
When she saw the photograph of herself from last year. Bowing at her feet. Nuestro querida abuela.
Our Lady of the Calle. How she sleeps.
Our Lady of the Calle. How she sleeps.
Our Lady of the Calle.
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.