By Miguel Forbus I SELL MY RUGS IN THE CENTRO OF OAXACA I LIVE IN THE VILLAGE OF TEOTITLAN DE VALLE My father has gone blind from weaving over 60 years. He weaves the large AZTEC calender with one giant loom and still blind he is able to finger the tines. I select the colors for him before I leave the casita and he remembers. I have taken care of him since my mother has gone to God. He shows no emotion and does not know I do reproductions of the masters, Picasso and Matisse and the impressionists and I use only natural dyes I collect insects and minerals and invent and make my own colors for the dye. On the day of the Santos, I go to the square to listen to the symphony. I soon began to notice you across the square while I enjoyed a liquado in the heat. I began to notice you every day You always wore a white dress, lacy and lady like. You talked to no one and if they came near you they were rebuked You came to listen to the symphony. Your body would move with the changing of the movement and the piece as the conductor changed tempo, you did as well, just slightly I began to be a watcher from afar and I seemed to begin to move as you. It was a orchestral celestial dance that we did together apart. When the violins would crescendo and trill you would close you eyes and your shoulders would rise and it would shake you and as I listen closer to the great classics conducted by the Maestro, the same thing happened to me. My body began to emulate yours and the tourist would stare at me and look at my work which was at the time THE BLUE PERIOD OF PICASSO and I paid them no mind, They bought any way. My beauty, the dancing led to other dreams that I cannot speak of or will not. Every night as I wove by the candelerios, you were next to me in spirit and I wove for you. I begin to weave no more reproductions or Mayan styles. I began to weave Quezalcoatl and his great love. All of the serapes were masterpieces. A color here and there and the cochineal that is the larvae of a cactus brought the color of you lips and I made myself of course Quezalcoatl and you my princess. It was quite a fantasy. My father could not see and did not know why we were making so many pesos. I could not tell him that I no longer weave the rugs that he always had me fabricate. I wove all night and everyday during the time of the orchestra, I watched you and let the serapes sell themselves. You and I together begins another story. You saw me one day and realized that we were moving in unison to a sweet piece by Chopin done by the Mexican Orchestra You summoned me, at first I did not know it was me you were commanding the presence of. But it was and you asked me not so politely what I was doing mimicking you, I told you no, no I am dancing with you. But from over across the el centro. You were so shy, I could see it in your eyes. You could not meet mine and I am more shy. I told you for a year, I had been watching you eat your tacitos and drink you fresh mango juice and I knew exactly when and where you would be. And I learned how you loved the music and how it moved you as it did me. She at first still believed I mocked her. But the sincerity in my voice showed through. At that time the symphony was playing a series of Norteano songs that were symphonic ballads of the Greatest Mariachi. As they began to play Una Paloma Blanca, you so sweetly touched my hands and beckoned with your eyes and I so surprised and shy, reached out and took you waist and hand. You were light like the feather of a dove and as I looked into your clear eyes of emeralds, I have never left since. We danced and you whispered the words to the song in my ear which had me shivering in the sweltering weather. I did become a great artisan and famous in the states and it was a chance meeting for the symphony and the dance we did across the el centro. But my sadness has gone like the doves that fly away when you open the cage. Miguel copyright by Michael Forbus