los hacelotodo. los vendelotodo. los comelotodo.

guanacos. from Miguel Gutierrez Jr on Vimeo.

suchitoto, el salvador

holy savior.

i haven't been writing much these last few days. it's not that i haven't met great people or listened to great stories, but in a way, i haven't felt entirely connected. i guess, in some way, it's similar to rhetoric. distant, in a way. there's a certain level of disconnect. tonight was different though. spontaneous. el salvador offered itself to me; it opened up. i walked to the gas station with my friend cassidy in search of some cigarettes, and ended up with stories from people who weren't prompted to share. offerings. there's alex, a man from new york. a salvadoran who lived in bushwick for a majority of his life, but is now back in el salvador. the product of a situation he didn't ask for. there's also guillermo, a 27 year old man from california, who was brought to the united states at three months of age. guillermo loves california. he knows it like the back of his hand; he knew it enough that he felt compelled to name the freeways for me. also, the american cities he loved and the ones he might never visit. completely unprompted. guillermo was deported three years ago from the only country that he has known. he now lives in el salvador. this is now his reality. his home. the product of a situation he didn't ask for. i can't imagine how i would react given the same circumstances, but guillermo took it with stride. it is what is, so he says. it is what it is.