D.F.

Mexico City, formally known as el Distrito Federal, is also known simply as el DF, and is now my new home. I came here uncertain of how long it’d last, but it’s time to start settling in.

Mexico feels similar to a few very different places I’ve known in a strange but intense harmony, with moments of Los Angeles coming to mind in quick succession between images of the Ixil and others of Buenos Aires. Even so, a city this large constantly reminds me of how small my view still is.

As I navigate el DF I also find myself seeking open horizons much like I did in Nebaj, only the mountains are this time replaced by skyscrapers and apartments. The few small trips I’ve taken have been beautiful reminders that vastly different landscapes that exist in this massive country.

In any case, my first months in el DF have left me feeling grateful to call this place home for a while. On the subways here I’ll often see guys wearing big backpacks with substantial mobile speakers blaring seconds-long samples of a homemade MP3 disk for 10 pesos. A particular few seconds that filled the metro train one evening seemed to resonate enough to merecer el varo, and thus I was introduced to the Chilean folksinger Violeta Parra for a soundtrack to it all: 

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