Mexica Dancer Luz Aguirre
I move from one place to another full of corrupt energies. The air burns my lungs. What good is my Mexicanidad carried on the left of my breast, the warmest, safest place? I close my eyes and perceive only muscles. At first the movements seem to have no direction, I concentrate on wise Huehuetl. The movements become pleasant. All the troubles, gone. The air becomes clean, the beasts hide, it is miraculous to breathe again! Only this time and this space exist. Yet, this space is peculiar, and to get to it I need to go through all the rites. I want to be space rather than matter!
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