Day of the dead. Patzcuaro, Michoacan, Mexico.
The quiet grief displayed by the lady in the midst of this boisterous cemetery full of strangers like me.... walking around taking pictures... disturbs me greatly.
I am torn between the desire to capture this very striking scene ( and share it with even more strangers) and the intrusion into what seems to be a very intimate act of remembrance.
More than that, my very presence testifies to the successful merchandizing (and belittling?) of an act whose meaningfulness is one of the causes of my presence.
They (on a whole) need/want those strangers and their cash... but at which point does this voyeurism become obscene... not sure. That is why I am torn.
That said there are other shots which I have chosen not post because they are definitely, in my sense beyond the obscene marker.
One more reason to remember this scene is that she seems to be looking at the cross, a christian symbol, made of flowers, and food for the dead... definitely not christian...
But... as the fire slowly continues burn and smoke rises up in the night, I hope her spirits too were lifted and that in some way, peace she found.