25-09-2011 / The Dancing Gaze

The Dancing Gaze


It was noon with a clear sky. Too clear would say those who were there.

The town stopped completely for there would be a celebration and a lot of guests would be coming. 

Each group that arrived was greeted with music and dance. They came from all the corners in the country.

Every guest was important. Each of them represented something that it's slowly lost in time:

The traditions that identify us. The traditions that define us.

Each group that arrived had its own music. The hosts that greeted them had to join in on it.

Heat didn't matter. Tiredness didn't matter. Hunger didn't matter.

Each dancer knew there would be a reward when they made it to the promised land.

But devotion and passion had to be proven in order to be deemed worthy.

Each step had to be perfect. Each step had to be in the exact moment.

The sun was the only illumination required for that stage. Dust was the only special effect needed for each performance.

Some say that in order to dance, you have to lose yourself in the rhythm. I saw a lot of believers lost that day.

Every one of them lost themselves in the movement. Despite that they also managed to ensure that their partners lost themselves as well in the same moment as they did.

Bodies danced. Souls dances. Gazes danced.

Gazing with discretion. Gazing suddenly. Gazing with rhythm.

Movements in unison. Synchronized sounds. Thousands of steps sounding like just one.

The town was filled with music. The town was filled with color. The town was filled with tradition.

Upon arrival to their destination, they were greeted like if they were the only people in the place. They fulfilled their mission just as the ancient gods had stipulated so.

The reward was delivered to them with joy and proud. They received it with humility and appreciation.

For devotees of this kind, heat and fatigue are not a problem. They are their reasons to be.

The problem for them would be not to arrive. The problem for them would be to fail.

They know that what they do matters. They know that what they do is necessary.

Preserving what can't be touched is a sacred mission. They have their reasons to do so.

I only had a camera in my hands and awe in my heart. I only was a witness to a miracle.

The only thing I could do was to capture their dancing. The only thing I could do was to capture their dancing gazes.


This photograph is currently participating in the contest "Lo Hecho En México (Made In Mexico) and I would immensely appreciate your support by voting for it here.

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