Peruvian Camel Toe

Fluorescent lightbulbs, neon, chicken-smoke, street vendors, handsome teenagers embracing on the sidewalks.  Three wheeled mini-taxis (125cc motorcycles with three wheels and a backseat) buzz around and honk their horns.  Quechua women walk with their citified children (young adults) who carry their babies the same way the Quechuas do, swaddled in a blanket and strapped to their backs.  Digital cameras, tape recorders, TV sets, and smiling faces everywhere you go... Huaraz is alive!

A baby cries, a man walks by and opens his case to reveal hundreds of shining metal pens.  Cakes for sale!  The city is cool at night.  The mountains surrounding us are capped in ice and the air falls down into the valley.  We all wear a nice sweater and cruise the city.  I feel safe and less lonely than I used to.  But of course loneliness exists and so I occupy my eyes and fall into a gazing trance.  And just when I'm comfortable, in the now, invincible and radiant, I catch my eyes drifting down and I'm staring into the nook of a wild Peruvian camel-toe.  They are everywhere here.  Black polyester, jeans, warmup pants, purple nylon.  I don't know if it's a conscious decision to create such an attractant or not, but camel toes are easy to find in Huaraz, Ancash.  I'm writing a good book: Huaraz Camel Toe.  Urban Outfitters would buy that.  Save the world.  Speaking of which: when do you draw the line on how to spend your time?  Say We could make a million books, a million bucks, all about camel toe.  120 full color telephotos for the coffee table.  Art?  Please tell me what you think.

Everyone here in Peru is beautiful.  Perhaps because they are part of a spectrum I've never seen.  All these villages and cities coming from a bloodline of Incas and Spaniards.  I've seen two natives with blue eyes.    The black hair, thick and shining.  The noses, so many varieties!  The butts, the beards, the teeth.  Ay Caramba!

Send me that camera quick mom!  I've got time and bail is cheap.

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