There’s no traffic; the street is dark enough to feel like it’s much later at night. I turn onto Morelos to enter Bucareli and hit the red light, the one before the clock that splits the traffic in two: right lane or left lane. In the middle of the avenue, a woman from the street is walking, clearly under the influence of some drug. Her hair is messy, her clothes dirty, her gaze lost. Her features are harsh, she looks angry, walking as if daring life itself: she’s moving against the flow of traffic, and for a moment, it feels like she’s coming straight at me. Don’t call out to her, I think. Stop imagining she’s coming toward you, I tell myself internally.
Her walk is aggressive and incredibly imposing. The drug makes her feel something so intense that, as she moves, her whole body jerks violently from head to toe, a kind of induced convulsion. It’s clear this isn’t dancing, yet I can’t help but soundtrack the scene in my head, some raw Prodigy track or dirty techno, beats that hit hard. The Prodigy or a techno dirty, beats that hit.
Please let the light turn green soon, I pray, lamenting that I couldn’t capture this scene, which once again reminds me of a Leos Carax film.
Photography by Larren Lee.
