The Search
R. Milian
Guatemala City
There were 52 new bodies at the morgue on a recent Monday morning; 52 new chances for Guadalupe Diaz to find her son, Mario Toscano. (New York Times January 1, 2006)
The mother, Guadalupe, says, “He was no angel.”
Her son has been out of sight for four months.
His return is not eminent any time soon. The likelihood of rain, tomorrow, is more probable that his appearance today. According to witnesses, he was kidnapped, but who knows the truth in this tropical land.
Her weekly routine, going to the morgue, searching for bodies, once again, has begun.
Where does she start looking?
Bodies lay on tables like fish at a supermarket.
There is no produce section here, but only red meat shinning brightly in the lights.
She dreams of finding him, finding him in this surrealist Buñuel film.
Bodies strewn about like a Pollock painting with arms and legs serving for his intersecting colorful lines. This is a museum of horrors, or shall we say, an unedited gory film which hasn’t been released yet. Guadalupe searches for her son.
She tries to find a way out of this interminable labyrinth as she proceeds looking at the quiet faces removed of their life. She is a headless horseman finding the truth. Who will give her the answer?
Guatemala City
There were 52 new bodies at the morgue on a recent Monday morning; 52 new chances for Guadalupe Diaz to find her son, Mario Toscano. (New York Times January 1, 2006)
The mother, Guadalupe, says, “He was no angel.”
Her son has been out of sight for four months.
His return is not eminent any time soon. The likelihood of rain, tomorrow, is more probable that his appearance today. According to witnesses, he was kidnapped, but who knows the truth in this tropical land.
Her weekly routine, going to the morgue, searching for bodies, once again, has begun.
Where does she start looking?
Bodies lay on tables like fish at a supermarket.
There is no produce section here, but only red meat shinning brightly in the lights.
She dreams of finding him, finding him in this surrealist Buñuel film.
Bodies strewn about like a Pollock painting with arms and legs serving for his intersecting colorful lines. This is a museum of horrors, or shall we say, an unedited gory film which hasn’t been released yet. Guadalupe searches for her son.
She tries to find a way out of this interminable labyrinth as she proceeds looking at the quiet faces removed of their life. She is a headless horseman finding the truth. Who will give her the answer?
posted by Rolando Milian at 8:59 AM
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