I am From...

I am from...

I am from cereal boxes, and tuna and sardine cans.

I am from brick houses with shared walls with tall multi-colored cheap steel and aluminum fences, under a bright sun. 

I am from  the swords and burning red beans of the Coral trees.

I'm from constant large family gatherings and alcohol.

From the weight and anchor of Ibinarriaga and Beutelspacher.

I'm from the sharp blade of sarcasm and forced happiness.

From less than perfect at school is failure and follow the rules as we break them.

I'm from saints and a mixed One God; courting orthodoxy with a fierce hate of it, and the rejection of all doubt. From books that seed doubt, and from the final peace of a space with nothing at all.

I'm from Mexico. The lost and the young one, from Germany, the Basque Country, Spain and somewhere in North Africa.

Memories of Basque Cod fish, Romeritos and Empanadas. 

From the tall-tales a Grandfather told to keep us entertained, a Grandmother who pulled her children and more forward, feeding and taking care of an army of young people that everyday will show at her door. 

From the Grandmother who as a young girl, would brave the streets of a city in the middle of a civil war, to bring food to her family. Who would love me fiercely until her death. 

What I brought is in the memory of books read and in the art that followed, leaving behind the stones that shall not be cast again, as I try to build myself anew.