Sunday, May 28, 2006

A request. The last image contains Spanish text. Can someone translate it for me?


Jeffrey S. called me at the Catholic cemetery, just as I was finishing photographing some tombstones for a presentation I'm giving. The wind was blowing and I had to get in my car before he could hear me.


Brightly colored artificial flowers were everywhere. I paused twice to re-insert bronze flower holders back into headstones, apparently undone by the strong winds we have been having.

Hand and cross.

Later another phone call includes the message that I am disappointing. For whatever reason it is very upsetting and I make a small scene. I am tired and feeling off from being sick and the chocolate frosting and yellow cake I had made don't seem so special anymore. Hours later I still feel off and wish the stomach ache would go away.

The mysterious text.

At the cemetery I wandered along rows of graves. We never put artificial flowers on the graves back in Michigan, but then you could plant flowers there and they grew, here the hot sun and harsh winds quickly fades the fake flowers to a pale, lifeless color.

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