Dream of Oaxaca


(Since I’m slowing on the writing, I’ll be sharing…)

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Dream of Oaxaca

I can bring you a Bird of Paradise, but I cannot bring you the sounds and smells of Oaxaca. The pungent odour of the first drops of rain falling into dry dust, the tang of waxen candles burning in the cathedral’s dark, the high notes sung at the altar by the old woman, dressed in black, who sings each day, on her knees, before the golden images in Santo Domingo: these sounds and smells defy any words I can pen. Nor can I place on the page the bustle of the abastos, the bickering of rooftop goats, the barking and growling of the dogs who patrol the azoteas at head-height and snap at your ears.  Other things escape me: the salty taste of sweat, the heat and heaviness of the midday sun as its hammer falls vertical from the sky, the sandpaper touch of hand-hewn stone…

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3 thoughts on “Dream of Oaxaca

    • Always, Roger! I only just now saw the weather report from 3 days ago about the storm “your neck of the woods” had – and it said more snow was on the way even then?? I hope your power & such have been restored by now, or at least for the weekend, and that you are all bearing up well…of course, old fossils wouldn’t live long enough to BE old fossils if we weren’t tough enough to withstand these annoying obstacles!! My best to Clare!

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      • Thanks, Pearl. We survived. I bought Clare a gift, a couple of years ago (or did she buy it for me?): a little carving with the words — sixty isn’t old when you are a rock. All well here. Power back and “bad” — “broken trees on wires” — cleared away. So we hope for the best. Keep in touch!
        Roger.

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