I simply cannot bring myself to take photographs of people in those circumstances and their homes, particularly when they are staring back at me. I cannot quite put my finger on why I am reluctant to do that.
I did take a couple of photos of one establishment that will give you some idea of what I am talking about.
This is a hand-made brick factory on the outskirts of San Miguel el Viejo.
Here you can see the man laying out some fresh hand-made bricks in the sun to dry. There is also a brick factory out there that fires a kiln with old tires. I do not think this is it.
That is the best I can do for you on that score, that being other photos of San Miguel el Viejo.
I have mentioned this before. The flies of México have earned my reluctant admiration. Their quickness, agility, elusiveness, and endurance are unparalleled. I say “endurance” because I will track a fly until he gets exhausted from flying and has to sit his ass down for a blow. At which point, in the United State of American anyway, he was usually a goner. Let me tell you though. These flies here are in a league of their own. These flies are N.B.A. caliber flies.
Let me be clear here. I am not saying that our flies in the United States are not decent specimens. You know how sensitive I am about misinterpretation on things like that. I am not saying that flies in the United States are out of shape or overweight or anything like that. I am just saying. . . .
The reason that is on my mind is that I use my folded up, waterproof map of México as a fly swatter, a fly swatter being one of the few things I did not think of at departure. I cannot buy a fly swatter here. Mexicans do not swat flies. They would consider that another laughable norteamericano waste of energy, every erg of which is necessary for other life-sustaining endeavors. Hell, the vast majority of them do not have screens on their windows. If they have anything other than shutters, then it is bars. They do have a lot of little accoutrements for covering food consisting in most cases of pieces of cloth, sometimes quite ornate and sometimes not so.
Now I have mislaid my waterproof map of México. Up to this point I have been coexisting to some extent with these Mexican flies. I just kinda tip my hat to them, and say, “Okay. I admit it. You're good.” When in Rome. . . .
But if I must purchase another map of México and then find my old map of México, as seems to occur invariably in these circumstances, I will be upset. I will then take it out on these goddamned Mexican flies with both maps, like Samson with his jawbone of an ass among those Philistines. There will be carnage. These Mexican flies will learn the real meaning of the phrase sin tregua, literally “without truce” but meaning “relentless.”