At 1800 hours the bell tolls and the gate to La Ciudad de los Muertos is closed. They lock up the dead. They put chains and padlocks on the door to each eternal home—to keep . . . someone . . . from getting out—or . . . someone . . . from getting in. Buried in compartments, surrounded by apartments, the dead are discontent. In this city within a city there is little peace when the living come to ogle as if at a zoo. So, the question that I ask of you is: Who is watching whom?
The cemetery never ceases to be a source of inspiration and contemplation for me. Any time of year, through all of the seasons, in different types of weather and throughout different times of the day—I am never bored.
There is always a new avenue to walk, a new tomb to discover, a different angle or texture on a familiar surface, a new reflection, a deeper shadow, and always the antics of the feline population to watch.