You beautiful little town, that is majestically clustered on top of mountains of greens. You identify your spirit in your imperfect yet ideal quaint architecture and promote intimacy with your corridor streets. Known for your silver, you feel abused at times, as the "gringos" often enter you without a real sense of acquaintance. But generic you are not, because even though the tourists invade you, you refuse to let yourself be tainted by what they bring.
Your people are gentle, they've gotten used to the bustle...they realize it's all part of the scene. Although walls they have built up, they are easily torn down with a genuine smile and sense of kindness. With a real longing to get to know who they are.
Your artisans are one of a kind, their hands dancing masterfully upon clay pots and wooden bowls, grasping paintbrushes and creating strokes. Your silversmiths so passionately conceiving pieces of jewelry that represent your quintessential self.
Oh Taxco, how much I adore you. Thank you for embracing me with open arms and for letting me capture you with the beauty of a lens.
|I blogged about Taxco a year ago and without knowing captured the same picture I featured.|