As I walked home from work I passed by the open doors of a carpentry shop. I couldn't help but go back, camera in hand, to capture this story book scene. An old Geppetto like man sat whittling away at his table. Like many of the old shops in San Miguel de Allende, there was something claustrophobic, almost hoarder-like about the space. After living in the US, the honest and unpolished side of ‘authentic Mexico’ can be a bit shocking, but over the years I have learned to love the laid back and anti-perfectionist nature of the culture. I find a persons creative space says so much about their mind, values and artistic process. I complemented the man on his little shop and he smiled. As he told me about himself and the artifacts on his walls, I quietly took his photograph.
A couple blocks down the street I came upon a church. I noticed that several of the benches in the plaza outside the church were occupied by young couples. Glued together by the hip, they passionately held faces and stared into each others eyes. I wondered why they were here. Was it because they were too young to take their lover home? Were they afraid their parents would judge? Or maybe that their partner would? Was it because this was the best place to meet in the middle? Or was it because, they felt closer to god, sitting here in front of the church? I like keeping my gestures of physical affection private, but maybe they like having an audience. Maybe he likes holding her while scanning the sidewalk for someone else. I wrote broken love stories in my mind for the rest of my walk home.