Three weeks home, the trip is like a dream we were in. Thirty days in Mexico.
A crash and burn style summary seems the only way to disseminate the mission.
Mezcal, mole, tortilla, nopal, chilli.
Olmec, Toltec, Teotihuacan, Zapotec, Maya, Aztec.
Conquests, colonisation, independence, war.
Corn and cerveza.
Plumed serpents, jaguar, hummingbirds, mermaids, iguana, flamingo.
Poncho. Pinata. Pyramids. San Pedro.
Turquoise. Egg yolk yellow.
Empires, dictatorships and revolution.
A tarantula on my forehead. Crocodiles on the shore.
Pacific and Caribbean. Frida and Guadalupe.
El Santo, Mascara, Blue Demon, Black Shadow.
Cenote, margarita, camaron and agua azul.
Cacti forests and the widest tree in the world.
Swimming blind. Hammocked, swinging.
Post-trip, it does feel as though a heightened level of sensory stimulation was reached.
Signs and symbols ignite like silver-tongued midday lightning storms. Flashbacks.
And the people were beautiful and kind and clever with their hands. Deep felt hearts and real-deal ways; death walks side by side with life. My identity compromised by strip-teased language, pictures speak louder than words.