So, I’d hobbled my way down this endless cobbled road… just kept going until I ran out of cobblestones, then kept right on going into the dripping balm jungle… downward still through the forest and wiping away sweat beads forming constantly and rolling down into my eyes with a final burn. My feet were slipping around in my sandals like two buttered eels, but I kept myself upright for the most part.
A small shack nestled in the wood and just above a canopied river offered an easy passage… that is until the owner’s two mongrels lunged out from under some brush and nearly snagged meat off my calves. I went slipping, sloshing, and darting through the subtropical wood without concern of all the fresh scrapes and cuts I was getting from the brush and brambles… figured it was better than feral doggie-fang surprise.
Finally found my way out to the road and sat catching my breath and “licking my wounds” at a small concrete bus stop in the mountains near Xilitla, Mexico. I smoked a cigarette and tried to wipe away bits sweat that was dripping into and searing my fresh abrasions.
I realized hadn’t shot anything in the woods at all and wasn’t about to go back! Then I saw this little bit of arranged grafitti on the wall next to me in the tiny bus parada that reminded me of Miro’s work. I snapped this one shot and called it a day.
Image for this entry HERE
“Xilitla Miró” ~ Xilitla, Mexico © Skip Hunt