When I was a child, I danced as a child, but now that I am old, I think about salvation

When I lived there they told me the Mexican sky had been orange and charred that evening in Ario Santa Monica. Remains of the Virgin had filled the air. The day before the revolutionary men had stripped her image from the church of this northwestern Michoacán village. Later that night the young women trained in a culture of sexual reticence followed their men into the church. Turning to their partners, they made the church into a dance hall.