A UNESCO Wold Heritage festival Inevitably it is necessary to give a historical perspective of this yearly festival that takes place in the city of La Paz, Bolivia. The celebration transforms and stimulates the social life of La Paz every year, emanating from a particular way of understanding and living Andean Catholicism. The Parade begins with a procession through the western part of the city. This procession is central to the event, involving 40,000 devotees who dance and sing in an offering to the patron saint. The dance has a sacred significance for the sixty-nine fraternities involved, which are greeted in the streets in a euphoric atmosphere where the music of 7,000 musicians resonates. It is so owe inspiring that it is rightfully a UNESCO Wold Heritage event (Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity). The image venerated with dance and music is arrived in the city at the founding of the convent of the Mothers of the Sacred Conception on the 8th of December 1664

As in all my work, these are recollections of a memory that might not necessarily have taken place, although the photographic evidence is present somewhere...

On a visit after so many years, the cemetery near Ephraim Gardens

Exploring two interpretations...

An idea I had for a long time, perhaps a constant in my work: light in darkness...

At the edge of a dream...

Von Wildenhaus, an extraordinary Seattle band with the mesmerising Billie Bloom, live at the Lighthouse pub in Walmer.

We were 4 photographers from Latin America at the Latin American Salon: yours truly, Diego Echevers Torrez with a collection of outstanding portraits, Rosa Gauditano's reportage on Luiz Inácio Lula and the 70's Brazil; and Andrés Rozo Samer's experimental abstractions.

I imagined my death this morning: In a car crash or by a bullet. I felt sorry for myself. I cried over my corpse for a while. Soon after I started talking of cows, of the government, of how expensive life is nowadays, And I felt better, a little bit good. I meant to tell you that I am really ill. As if without skin, hurt by the air around, wounded by the sun, by words, by dreams. An annoying devil has climbed on the back of my head and doesn't leve me alone. Ulcerous, rotten, I have to live crawling, on all fours, slowly, any way I can. [Jaime Sabines (1926-1999)]