list

[note #51]

[self-portrait at the museo de la filatelia de oaxaca (stamp museum…this is an example of mail art)]

My last morning in Oaxaca . . . so many moments since I arrived. After the blue mountains folding in on themselves from the plane window, this is some of what I remember: tacos every day at Tacos Roy (roy means king); then a precolumbia skeleton is pulled from a volcano; then the rooftop of a hidden mansion on a quiet street; then an AA meeting and a firehose of words (puta de madre); then the day we invade Venezuela; then Natalie lays her hands on the walls of a fifteenth century aqueduct; then a selfie with Coral to send to Forrest; then a poet and mother gets murdered by ICE; then Douglas holds a spider woven into a rug; then a dinner at the Hacienda on the outskirts of nowhere; then Café Brujula every morning (brujula means compass); then el Jefe wheatpasted to the walls with the body of a cucaracha; then a lamp woven from stalks of wheat; then Catherine listens to my story about a plane crash; then Gabby djs Kendrick and a Mexican wedding song; then the hall of smoking meat with Manu and Michael; then Guadalupe leaves, then Pam comes, then Manu leaves; then we are all in Teotitlan, the ruins of Zapoteca, looking out over the valley, watching as beeswax is poured over hanging candles; then el Jefe threatens to invade Greenland; then el Jege threatens to bomb Tehran; then a midnight seismo (earthquake) warning drives us all into the courtyard; then Gloria’s hands pull a clay pot from the air; then Josefina tells of women’s cooperatives all over the world; then the insect on the cactus that makes our hands red; then Balam tells stories of the cartels of Chiapas; then soccer in an empty stadium; then pozole and tejate and las chapulines; just now, a marching band in the street, with puppets and dancing, a callejoneada, a wedding dance.

[Sylvia Georgina Estrada + Julián Herbert]