"time stayed in my house, always I am playing with my son if need guns under the table, and once he told me he was going outside to smoke a cigar. He returned two days later. He appeared dressed in a shirt and shorts when not wearing down. They had recognized some Brazilian and went with them to nightclubs and bars to another city. That's Magic"

In the middle of a conflict, still surrounded by violence or criminal groups, what is imposed is the routine of life. Because almost always, except when nameless bombs fall, there are people who live there with a certain normality, children going to school, businesses that open to sell something to eat, stalls where you cook, couples who fall in love and fall out of love and friends chatting around a table.

The wave of suicides of this native town, forgotten like so many in this Mexico in a hurry to get to the present, had a first voice of alarm early in 2012. Then, The Organized Front of Indigenous Peasants denounced that "indigenous women when they have been unable to feed their children for four or five days become sad; and his sadness is so great that even 10 from December to 2011 fifty men and women, thinking that they don't have to give their children, they threw themselves into the ravine ".

a little further north, where the winds come dry, the people danced in front of a calm and broken sea. His meats were precise and his rhythms, proud of rules, invested without prayers or sex. He smelled of female and shampoo. There we saw an indecent sunset, with a silent and sad family, in which the sun dissolved over six waves.