A woman turns to her husband. “You feel it, don’t you?” she asks. He nods. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of copal and the weight of many lives—those who have left and those who remain.
Even the dogs seem to sense it. They bark at the sky, watching something we cannot see. Spirits, maybe—slipping through the veil, stepping into the world for a night.
In the crowd, a man walks past, his arms full of flowers. He carries them like an offering, like a duty—like a man who knows that today is a truce between life and death.
A bee circles me, drawn to the chocolate in my hands.
Today, death is not a tragedy. It is a presence. It leans in close and whispers: “If you are here, it is to live.”
November 2nd arrives in San Miguel de Allende. And with it, a door opens. We are not here by chance. Deep down, I believe we are all here for something more. Life is full and fierce.
Photo from the Day of the Dead celebration on November 2, 2024.
