Untempered flames exude from the heart of Mexican spirit. Embers of white copal incense stones smoke and smoulder spitting forth plumes of thick memories beholden to lost but loved ancestors. Oaxaca is a city of colour - many colours. Its shades are found in the bright, timid smiles that grace you as one wanders the labyrinthian passages of alley and court. Skeletons, affectionately adorned in the guise of sophisticate heroes and lovers, act as host upon arrival into restaurant and thoroughfare. As companion, there greets in dainty and quiet nobility the marigold whose flowers hide in wait for eyes who dart in corners, ledges and other hushed spaces. These bouquets of rapport turned altars of golden welcome the ancient souls who visit when the thread between our world and theirs is at its thinnest. And without warning, a crack in the air bursts forth with the frenzied energies of BOOM, SCHWOO and WHIRL! It shakes even the strongest of nerve. Youth of the street ignite the light of fireworks symbolically reflecting the full and blazing lives of yesterday who remain and pass onwards into the marrow of every Mexican’s bones. Dia de Muertos, the fall and blooming of life - a day worthy of the dead.
