Héctor

Urraqueño.

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"Me volví artista por accidente,supongo. Porque en casa había una esquina que tenía mucha actividad estética. Sabés,esa esquina contenía demasiadas formas y sonidos. Me volví artista por muchas otras experiencias. Como cuando de pequeño me encontré una figura de Keith Hearing impresa en un cartoncillo entre mis juguetes y nunca poder olvidar esa figura". @lamothecarlos

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Guate,mala.

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Septiembre,2019.

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Half Urraco/ Half somewhere else:

A few days ago I went back to my pueblo,Urraco,and things changed a little: Goyo showed up at the last minute and no chance for a beer at all, Emilio was at Hong Kong or Australia or something like that on southern Asia; Edgardo had a newborn; Héctor Enríque got a new job and it's now working with all Palma Africana retaled stuff. I also saw Jaffar and he was a little depressed so I did not ask him much. Apparently the only thing that haven't change was the flow of the river close to my abuela's home. The pueblo still dusty as the last time I saw it. I showed up at Olga's house,the one at La Tamusa, and met Ivan for the very first time. Ivan is now one of my favorite tíos. He's great as tío. As soon as he saw me,offered me dinner. Tenés que estar pollón como tu tío,he stated. Ivan talked about his days at Longbeach,the North of México and some of his day at prison. We were eating cordero,papas and salad when Ivan told that his days as chico malo ended. Yo entiendo,tío,I stated. (Of course I understand: I've been chico malo aa well). I did not ask him much about his life on the dark side,but I did about California. He stated Longbeach was the best place to live: You know,la vida loca. Ivan is the kind of tío that will take the phone of of your hands and put a beer on it and look you straight to the eyes: La familia solo es una,aprovechá. I never understood why on my teen ages I started looking for literature based on the chicano culture and also became a Gary Soto regular reader,as well the esthetics found on the low class studio photograpies. At Olga's house there is a ton of photographies hanging on each wall. Ivan and his wife,La Guata,El Guato,Selvin and a family picture,for example. All of them taken at LA,probably on a dollar studio. I grew up with this ideal of the chicano tendencies and immigrant culture,you know,the mid-nineties. Ivan,for sure,is a Junot Díaz' character: he's latino and his life has been divided by two countries. I''m not really sure if he is a chico malo,but for sure he's a California man. You know,fifty-fifty.

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Carlos Lamothe según Héctor Edú.

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2018

Con mis amigos no hablo de fotografía,ya que surgen temas más interesantes por abordar: de la vez que Chon fumó de mis cigarros Y le sentaron mal, de los precios de la mota, de los nuevos textos de Lalo Y los textos perdidos de Chon, de las fiestas de diciembre Y febrero de años pasado, de la eterna playlist de Chon, Y de mis iniciadas compras por la web. Vainas así. ¡Ah! Hablamos también de las chavas que vemos,nos gustaron,les perdimos la pista Y las olvidamos.

Hablamos de nuestros trabajos, nuestros despidos, de las deudas por pagar, de los clientes tontos, de los malos jefes, de la mala paga,y de hacer horas extras para cubrir todos los gastos del mes entrante. Compramos cervezas Y más cigarros. Y hablamos de las malas horas entre semana, de Gallardo teniéndome entre ceja Y ceja, Es su manera de apoyarme,les digo. Recordamos que hay mucha ropa sucia y poco detergente,y clasificamos la ropa para lavarla.Pero siempre luego,nunca al instante.

Busco en la gaveta y ya no hay mota. No hay. Sólo la pipa. Ni modo. Cerveza entonces. Disfrutamos lo poco que tenemos. Nos quejamos poco Y tratamos mucho. Chon me ha comentado que quiero estudiar historia pero aquí en el valle no hay mucho por hacer, así que estudia finanzas. Yo soy mal estudiante de Letras. Lalo aún no ha decidido. Pero seguímos en el barco universitario,divirtiéndonos, pagando la renta, comprando ropa y libros de segunda, disfrutando de a poco y si hemos de llorar: lo hacemos bajito.

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Puerto Cortés, Honduras

I met Pichi over a week ago. Pichicho has been great as friend. He always has something to talk about. Something to teach about. Pichi is a born and raised omoan with jamaican roots. He talks little about his daily living, but everybody states he's the best sailor ever. While riding on the pick-up he wanted to talk about my days on the city I'm currently living at: Duros,¿entendés,Pichi? . Of course he did. Pichi Will attend every of your needs and might probably answer every question about omoan history. The sea itself,it's Pichi. He's,for me, a wise anphibiean. Pichi talked about his days at Pánama, the hard working days at The Canal and the return trip un which the boat was about to sink. Pichi also states he is good at cooking and as a fisherman: Mi mamá era chef y mi papá era un buen pescador,¿qué más podrías pedir?

Pichicho will encourage to take risky steps on your life: ¿Y la chica que te gusta sabe que te gusta? I never talked to him about a girl in my life, and I tried to answer but I say No. I tried to defend myself: La ciudad te consume, allá es diferente. Not for sure if God has an official spokesman but Pichi will probably take a chance as it: Mirá el mar,ese va a estar allí siempre. Yo me voy a ir. Vos te va a ir. La chica se va a ir. Si yo quiero langosta,voy y la saco. Nada me detiene. Y la como. No puedo esperar hasta mañana,ya la langosta se va a ir y yo no la voy a comer.Imaginá y algo pase en la madrugada,no llegamos a mañana,¿lo ves? Then he added ¿Sabés cómo soy al final del día? I looked at the sea which was turning into a deep blue and turn back to Pichi: Loco.Pobre.Feliz.

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