The Art of Memory

Memories are powerful.  They often make us hold on to objects for a long time.  They make us move forward and backwards.  I rather hear people talk than talk.

Some memories are corrupted and others can pass as hallucinations.  In the end they are all subjective.  I think of memories as trees.  In Reynosa, the trees were painted white with cal so the tree would last the winter or plague; anything.  I often think about doing the same thing to memories.  I want to protect the little bits I can remember. 

And I often join them all in a world that only exists within me which I paint so it can exist outside of me.

Rio Grande Bravo

So here it is, finished.  I will always enjoy painting/ drawing the Rio Grande Bravo since it's a place I can say I'm closely related to for spending most of my life crossing it.  I hardly believe in miracles or wish for anything.  I often just think: things would be nicer if such and such thing would happen.  But, if I were to pray for anything, wish for something or just hope, it will be for the water in Rio Grande Bravo to be born again.