There is abundant literature on a long-gone race of Travellers who aledgedly roamed the universe. Complex ceremonies have been well documented: Day of the Dead, Sacred city of Tlalpan. Travellers 106 et al. Some sat idly in the street. Traveller 107. Paris. Possible representation of Quasimodo and Esmeralda. Travellers 108 &109. Sacred city of Tlalpan,…
“Please allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of wealth and taste…”. I am Peter Pumpkin. “Wilhelmina is my name. Witching is my trade…” “Oh Susanna, don’t you cry for me, I come from Alabama, with my banjo on my knee…” “Thank you for the colours”, said Peter. “The turret’s a bit askew, isn’t…
When we bought the new house in the South of Mexico city, in the Tlalpan neighbourhood, there was a house nearby, entirely painted with “street art”. Motifs inspired from pre-Colombian lore. Here’s how it looked from left to right. The central figure was a red-hair tree-woman (goddess?) The scroll coming out of her mouth was…
I saw him for the first time in Anzures. He had grey hair. Green eyes. Barely gave me a passing glance. He was coming from Leibnitz Street, crossing Gutenberg Street. I say “street”. It is more wood than street now with all the grass and trees that have grown through the asphalt. He was jogging…
G. had finally found a door to his size. (Montreal, June 3019). And he opened it… An old pick-up & radio was playing a Charleston. Absolutely nothing happened. Ai Weiwei expo. Mexico, 2029. “The wire” wrapped its final season. Then came the eagle, looking for the rabbit. The Chinelo dancer froze. The young girl finished her ice-cream.…
I am the High Lord, Red is my colour, Hatred my word, I have no honour. I am the red Lord Sweet is the song of blood Quick is my sword Slaughter, massacre and flood Are my trade. To no end, Mercy you bade. I am the last fiend. Terror is your fate Carnage my…
Super quake, Saint Tremor, King Tremor, Great Earthfreak. Riftmaker. Great splitter, terror of the Cuauhtémoc Earthly indigestion, urban rattle. Thirty years ago, in Eighty-five, From Acapulco to the District We felt your fury, O King of the Quakes. Today along the city streets Between car and tortilla fumes, The rumour spreads in…
An old dilapidated 19th century house at the end of an unkempt garden. The door was open. To an uncanny display. I was expecting yet another series of altars to the dead such as the one above. Or an offering of corn, arranged on volcanic earth, framed by flowers. (Stage right) Or, stage left, a…
Scotty to Captain: “Time-warp modules are down, Sir.” “What do you mean ‘down’? We’re in the middle of a tunnel in bl..dy Tlalpan!” “Sorry, Sir. The Orange man has blocked our main Canadian Time-warp supplier.” “Bombardier? I thought they only did Metro trains and stuff.” “In a previous time-slot, Sir. They have now extended into…
Nguyen Van Ty was a peaceful man. He’d arrived at the small village in Tonkin many years ago. Apparently from nowhere. Some of the villagers said he had a Saïgon accent, others assured he came from the Imperial city of Hué. He was dressed as a peasant, but his manners, his education, his delicate hands…
