El Desierto Chihuahense

Chihuahua is a state made from the ground up. Its capitol city is manicured for good measure – the trees in white skirts (even the shrubs – to keep off the bugs!),  the women in high heels, the men in high boots.

Men in thick, curve-lipped boots forming half the body weight of an average teenager. Silhouettes of hat, no butt, and boot. Turquoise, orange, white; sleek, bubbly, spiky; long, flat, and pointy – boots Off The Ground. (For good measure.)

In the plazas, the shoes are continually shined, the sidewalks are regularly swept, and sometimes, the lone yelp of a brass trumpet breaks the silence.

In Chihuahua, there is never enough money, pero sí hay es esfuerzo.

Every morning, el viento chihuahuense blows in a circular rotunda of effervescent pesos, a solidified boredom, and the drone of an acrylic nail file ready to grind the dirt off, grind the time away, and bring the day in...