19. Allegory and Ruins

19.

Allegory and Ruins

The last day of the celebration, there is a parade of the townsfolk which seems to me to represent an allegory of human life: Leading the parade are the masked and chanting boys—like awakening spirits—then come the youngest children, boys wearing little suits and girls wearing embroidered dresses, next older girls wearing what appear to be elaborate traditional folkloric dresses and these girls are showered with confetti by slightly older girls walking near them—these older girls are dressed in the latest fashions: tight blouses, silky pants and platform soled shoes.

Next come a cluster of men carrying a statue of a saint followed by what seem to be the important men of the village dressed in black suits decorated with red silk sashes.

Last of all, the old women of the village shamble past dressed in faded black and carrying lighted candles like mourners at a funeral.

There are no old men at all—I suppose men in this culture are expected to die young.

Everyone living in the village marches in this parade and I am almost the only spectator. I have my camera out like a tourist and the people encourage me to take lots of pictures. Some of them have cameras too and take photos of each other.

When the parade is finished, I climb to the top of a desolate hill overlooking the town to explore the ruins of an old adobe church. I walk through mounds of dried dung into the crumbling sanctuary. A huge black vulture flies up from the weeds and rubble, through the partially collapsed dome and circles off into the wide reddish sky.

Thinking partly of Elizabeth—partly of the Parisians and partly of just everything in this solitary earthprobe, I have an incredible feeling of loneliness, loss and sorrow. As I make sketch from inside the ruins, biting insects attack my legs.

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