freedom of speech.

My grandfather tended to express his malaise about the rising price in maize and beans through minuscule, muffled, mumbles. Once in a while the paper that was distributed all throughout the city would come to rest in his hands but he was unable to read it like millions of illiterate Mexicans.

He visited the most prolific circle of political analysis known to man in his time: the barbershop. The barber was master of scissor and comb; a connoisseur and propagator of renovating ideas. The barbershop was the center of the political and cultural universe. And, like hair, ignorance fell from my grandfather’s head (and off every man) only to reappear once again with the passing of time as he exited the barbershop and walked into reality.

Times are so different. Now, I don’t wish to talk about myself but I must. I admit that I find a bit of amusement about the many ways and styles that exist in this country to tell the President to go “fuck himself”.


J-Lopez (Dario Mariategui)

Prague, Czech Republic

3.28.2010