Greetings to everyone!
is something I really enjoy traveling and meeting other life forms. Realize that the greatness of man lies not in how much can be destroyed but can create and recreate based on respect and recognition of their space and time.
In the biggest lessons that I have received in life are those who have lived in the indigenous peoples who have allowed me to enter. I mean come because they've only been a tourist, but a participant (not part of) dynamics. I thank these great people from entering your life and appreciate that they have entered into my heart.
Another lesson I have received from my students. Many of them with great spirit and embracing life with pride. Which are in constant search that do not conform with what is just in front of his nose and offered them firsthand.
More of the things I enjoy is to collaborate with others. On this occasion, I present a writing was given me by one of my students to be "reviewed", but that did nothing but motivate me to ask permission to publish it together with these pictures I took a few years ago when I did my thesis work in the Sierra Mixe Indian Oaxaca. The name of the author? Ezequiel , Voca 6 student.
This post is dedicated to them and all of them. Who every day make me smile in class, I (and is) amazing, they put their fist to forge a better country.
Without further ado, let's read what the heart of Ezekiel sprouted, I hope that the photographs will do justice to such written direction. Thanks to him for lending me these letters.
full of promise Ears, eyes and mouths full of injustices muted by repression of others. Are the face of indigenous people, stripped of their dreams and isolated urban hypocrisy, synonym, for some, human irrationality.
dreams are few Indians, then, is the system itself which is responsible for isolating them in a corner and preaching promises that are lost in oblivion, leaving the lasting impression of hope.
Forgotten in an uncertain present in the dense fog of the cold mountains, sheltered only by the hope of a better future whose only refuge, truly yours, unimaginable natural wealth, are witness poverty ignored.
Privacy, mirage of the tongue, external world that forgets that in a spot of our language is spoken dialects, invaluable symbol of our cultural diversity. They
, whose treasure is the past, telling their stories in the mountains, where these people down so common, large in spirit, with a cold smile that is confused by the government.
Many have died defending their rights, their needs.
For them and many more makes sense to return the ideology, the cries of people like Zapata lost or Che, all synonymous with justice, freedom, equality, education, land ... Today, Who hears these voices?, who takes them seriously?
masters of their past embedded in it, living a present into oblivion and others of a future ... So if you even dream of a future.
To all the Indians of Mexico ...
is something I really enjoy traveling and meeting other life forms. Realize that the greatness of man lies not in how much can be destroyed but can create and recreate based on respect and recognition of their space and time.
In the biggest lessons that I have received in life are those who have lived in the indigenous peoples who have allowed me to enter. I mean come because they've only been a tourist, but a participant (not part of) dynamics. I thank these great people from entering your life and appreciate that they have entered into my heart.
Another lesson I have received from my students. Many of them with great spirit and embracing life with pride. Which are in constant search that do not conform with what is just in front of his nose and offered them firsthand.
More of the things I enjoy is to collaborate with others. On this occasion, I present a writing was given me by one of my students to be "reviewed", but that did nothing but motivate me to ask permission to publish it together with these pictures I took a few years ago when I did my thesis work in the Sierra Mixe Indian Oaxaca. The name of the author? Ezequiel , Voca 6 student.
This post is dedicated to them and all of them. Who every day make me smile in class, I (and is) amazing, they put their fist to forge a better country.
Without further ado, let's read what the heart of Ezekiel sprouted, I hope that the photographs will do justice to such written direction. Thanks to him for lending me these letters.
BETWEEN DREAMS AND MOUNTAINS
Text: Ezequiel González Román.
Photo: L. Sarai
Text: Ezequiel González Román.
Photo: L. Sarai
full of promise Ears, eyes and mouths full of injustices muted by repression of others. Are the face of indigenous people, stripped of their dreams and isolated urban hypocrisy, synonym, for some, human irrationality.
dreams are few Indians, then, is the system itself which is responsible for isolating them in a corner and preaching promises that are lost in oblivion, leaving the lasting impression of hope.
Forgotten in an uncertain present in the dense fog of the cold mountains, sheltered only by the hope of a better future whose only refuge, truly yours, unimaginable natural wealth, are witness poverty ignored.
Privacy, mirage of the tongue, external world that forgets that in a spot of our language is spoken dialects, invaluable symbol of our cultural diversity. They , whose treasure is the past, telling their stories in the mountains, where these people down so common, large in spirit, with a cold smile that is confused by the government.
Many have died defending their rights, their needs.
For them and many more makes sense to return the ideology, the cries of people like Zapata lost or Che, all synonymous with justice, freedom, equality, education, land ... Today, Who hears these voices?, who takes them seriously?
masters of their past embedded in it, living a present into oblivion and others of a future ... So if you even dream of a future.
To all the Indians of Mexico ...
Walking through those halls 
