Oaxaca – San Cristobal
A big toe grips the cobblestone. An arm brushes a wall. A drop of dew is deposited on a forehead. A glint of light reflects off a coffee cup outside a café. Often this is how we see a city. Not so much the photons entering the iris and processed in the visual cortex but the intangibles, the little things. The distant laughter of a child, the wafting of sweet elote, the soft light of a streetlamp, the way a stranger approaches on the sidewalk, the colors of a wall. It is said, “The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist sees what he has come to see”. I’ve come a long way the last few days, perhaps too far, to fast, it’s time to engage the present and walk the path to transcendence. Tonight, I wander the streets of San Cristobol. Slowly and determinately. As I do I reminisce about the past week.