And so it goes..

[Artguy]

Life doesn't end because it ends. This is how my life went on after my mind and body had no more use for the other, with no beginning and no end, just carried on from where it came to be.
Even this tale really doesn't begin, it is rather a set of circumstances already in play.
These circumstances, if you really want to call them that, evolved from previous events that need not be of any consequence. There are reasons why these events unfolded, or are unfolding, but it doesn't really matter.
The airport in Mexico City is busy on the dullest of days. Landing in a city of more than twenty million people is not to be taken lightly. I had seen it for years as a place to just come and go without ever thinking about what lies beneath it, as I am no conquistador, although that is what has sunk below its' tarmac traced with the tire skids of all it's coming and going.
There were once battles for life, land and gold fought here. Hearts bled on pyramids, and bearded men came from wooden ships. Montezuma came to his own sacrifice and Cortes became an electric song. Aztecs all but gone taking a measure of time and faces from the island in lake Texcoco called Tenochtitlan. Faces carved deep in pre-Columbian Americas relegated to faceless museums.
The screech of landing tires signals their arrival, and thank you for flying with us.

More to come....


As the metal ship drifted to its' mooring with voices announcing all human activity The new sun, the middle world sun shone through the small round windows and gave them solace that they had arrived. That mad shuffling about, to release the luggage from above seemed so strange to the little boy. He's only 5 or 6, moving his head with wide eyes at all directions to take in every reaching body, hearing the strains of those somehow awkward in the gymnastics of it. His parents gently nudged him into the traffic and a slow shuffling parade ensued. What must be in his young mind to leave this flying machine then devoured by a tunnel when stepping out the door. It must be ok though as everyone else was in the parade, and nice ladies were smiling at them, so with little feet and back pack he marched on.
With few exceptions every airport I have ever been in are massive structures, though with far reaching ceilings, steel stretching to it's very limit, and glass, glass, glass, bringing the sky inside, all of it speaking the language of flight. I say massive to describe size, and weight, but there really is no mass to it all. The steel structure I imagine being as hollow as a bird's bones, even more reason to feel a lightness outside the weight of being human.

Echoing voices from above, he remembers from the first airport back home, but he didn't understand this new language, and he noticed everyone around him was speaking it too. Why he thought? What is this sound he's hearing? It must be OK everyone seems be alright with it, nobody seems angry. It's all so normal, that is until his mother started speaking it, or at least trying to. This is certainly not normal. The lady at the counter listens and nods in accord.
Mom what are you saying? Mathew it's called Spanish. It's the language people speak here, like we speak English and French. You're going to see and hear lots of strange things , always ask OK? His father winks in approval. Do you remember the name of this place. MEXICO! he boyishly exclaims, with arms akimbo. The lady behind the counter and his parents all approve with a civilized chuckle.
Down deeper , perhaps at an Aztec level, the carousel rolling out the packaged lives of the new explorers all huddled around oblivious of each other, Jack at one end and Marie, with Mathew at the other impatiently signally with cryptic gestures. With landed possessions in hand the march continues.

Good catch Jack. Yeah dad good catch, the red one and the blue one. Another parade to customs, Mathew continues to lead the way. Looking back once in a while to make sure mom and dad are still there. They patiently waited in line. Out came their most important and guarded possession-passports. It not only get's them through all the travel barriers setup for security and paranoia, but a paranoia that we would rather not think of it, A necessary evil. Marie with her normal brusk confidence lays out hers and Mathew's . No smile from the official, part of their training I imagine. The normal pointed questions, the why, how long, purpose, to which Marie answers with a reflection of his steely manner. Not even a welcome to Mexico. Moving along it's Jack's turn, same questions, answered with Jack's smiling way. The customs official looks at him a with a brown eyed intensity, Stamps his passport and gestures for him to move on. Jack's smile gone.
Really Jack? You know your happiness is suspicious to these guys. Let's find our way out of here.
See that sign Mathew , estacion de autobuses, it means bus station. That's where we're going. Cool I'm learning Spanish. You know Jack, I'm just starting to see this trip much longer than I thought, 4 hours on a bus. You know why you're doing this. I'm not sure anymore. Look around us. This isn't a trip to an all inclusive. We are in Mexico. I feel lost, I know where we are going, but only in name, only what we have read. I can't help thinking of the danger, like a dark hole we have thrown ourselves into. We have always known about the poverty and desperation of those protected places we've seen, but it was on the other side of an invisible fence. Jack even when we took those well rehearsed side trips off the resort I felt oblivious to what was really around us . Jack as soon as we get on that bus we're on our own. Our little guy leading the way like a big man has no idea about what's out there, and neither do we. Marie we just have to take care to know what and who is around us. A little vigilance . I think we have draw a line between the possible dangers and the smiles on their faces. But Jack , there's my Father. I don't even know how to find him, not sure I want to.

[judih]

...ready for more

[saw]

intrigued for the next installment

[sasha]

really enjoyed this, esp. the little one's impressions of leaving the plane. The slow shuffling parade... spot on.