All saints

The place smells of death several kilometers away, those corpses barely buried under a few centimeters of earth. Sometimes there are bones that escape, swept away by the few rains and go for a walk among the graves. It is a gigantic underground cemetery in El Alto and today is the day to say goodbye to the souls of the dead who have come to visit. Each one walks to the grave of his or her relatives and, if the money gives him, to great reinforcement of mariachis, he eats, drinks, sings and cries with his past relative to the beyond. Children run and jump from grave to grave and the occasional dog tries to beg for a piece of bread. And if for lack of that he manages to get a bone out there, well, the same goes ...


Low and black clouds give an air of the end of the world to this panorama, sharpened by the wind that raises large gray dust caps, of sand and garbage. Evening comes, drunkards stay while souls leave, and dogs too ...