Just over a year ago, my journey led me to Santa Clara for the very first time—a trip that left an indelible mark, a prelude to all that was yet to come. When word spread in Ocumicho that Santa Clara would host the event this year, my heart leapt with excitement. It wasn’t simply a …
Not long ago, in Santa Clara del Cobre, the New Fire was kindled—a symbolic spark said to revive ancient rituals, rekindle collective memory, and forge an unbreakable bond with tradition. After the ceremony, the community of Tingambato was chosen as the host site. Yet what appeared to be a straightforward decision soon stirred up a …
Some time ago, I realized I know nothing about Paracho.We all know the myths about its origin, but none of those stories truly satisfy our curiosity. Some say we are Tecos who moved from El Paracho over by Lake Chapala, others that Friar Francisco de Castro secured these lands for us by requesting them from …
The Weight of a Name Soledad Ulloa arrived in Morelia five years ago, bringing with her a guitar and a wealth of stories. When asked why she chose to call herself Soledad, she explains that it is her middle name, but she has adopted it as an act of introspection. "Soledad (Solitude) is not bad; …
This year has been a strange year, profoundly strange, one of those that seem heavier than all the others combined.For weeks we lived under a still sky, as if the sun, cruel and watchful, had decided to fix its gaze upon us to observe our despair. An infernal heat took hold of the days, suffocating, …
I love that which I cannot comprehend,and thou art, to me, a divine enigma.Do not fear to ask how much,for the "how much" is but a cage without keys,a bottomless abyss, endless in its call.Love hath no weight, no form,it is like the horizon:always present, yet always beyond.If only I could tell thee how I …
One must invent a word, true and grand,that captures what the eyes contain within,for though the gaze may seem to merely stand,it does much more: it wakes the soul from sin.In them, the world itself does pour and spill,love and hate, loneliness and fire's flame,a mirror true of all humanity,a beacon in the fog, or …
I don’t know if I should call it absence,when in every corner of this houseyou leave your shadow hanging.The air fills with your steps,even though I don’t hear them;and the walls whisper your name,without me asking them to.You’re not far.There’s no distance between the memoryand the weight of your laugh,which stays here,as if it had …
Do you think of me the way I think of you? No, of course not.I’m certain you don’t.Your mind roams paths I’ll never know,wandering through the hills,chasing the shimmer of the horizon,where my eyes can’t even dream to reach.Your …
I saw the ocean, deep blue and weightless, rising toward the shore.I watched that immense wave break upon the rocks, its fury spilling …
