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Opportunity Tinkles on the Door: the MASKS series
Opportunity Tinkles on the Door
the MASKS series

by Laura Honse

My little white poodle Gloria begins firing out a round of non-stop barking one night as I am relaxing in bed reading. I jump out of bed and look out the window in time to catch two boys urinating right smack against my front door. They just shrug and walk away. I go downstairs and mop up the puddle that has invaded my front hallway.

Fifteen minutes later, a guitar begins to play and someone starts to sing outside the market place in front of the street vendor cart that fries up greasy hamburgers topped with bacon and spam. The same damn song I hear every night, like an earworm, driving me mad. (Though I must admit that recently I have noticed great improvement has been achieved. Small wonder with so much practive, each night a repetition of the night before.) Christ, doesn't he know any OTHER song? I run outside and confront that lanky, brooding, gangly, disheveled, black-clothed, long-haired rebel who pissed against my door. (It is hard to cuss someone out when they are taller than you and you have to look up at them.) Suddenly, a woman steps out of the shadow of a wall and I am introduced to his girlfriend. She had been waiting for him to sing his song and collect his tips. She demands he go to my house and clean up his urine. He refuses and denies having done it. I threaten to haunt him the rest of his days by going outside to cuss him out anytime I hear him playing his hallmark song in front of the greasy hamburger joint at night.

True to my word, next night when he starts his song, I am on the scene in a flash cussing him out. "Pinche perro. Cabron." He paces back and forth like a lion in a cage, his pants hanging down around his groin. Finally he breaks down and a smile starts to leak out from under his stubbornness. And then we are laughing hysterically. He kneels before me begging forgiveness in the middle of the street before all the greasy hamburger joint customers while I direct karate kicks towards his head. Yes, he pissed against my front door, but he was drunk. I tell him he is forgiven under the condition that he poses for me for my new photo series: MASKS. He then comes over to my house and I show him my photography.

I have since reciprocated the social courtesy, having visited his home, a very humble, deteriorating house that is empty (like a stage set with minimal props) and up for sale, which he may be just illegally occupying.

This is how I met Dante. Now, every time I hear that damn song being played at night in front of the greasy hamburger joint, it puts a bedtime smile on my lips.

**************

Laura Honse is an American visual artist. After twenty years in Germany, where she had her own gallery, she relocated to Mexico and now lives in San Miguel de Allende. Her photography has been exhibited at El Nigromante Bellas Artes, Art Print and Instituto Cultural de Leon. Her photography, collage, rebozos and jewelry are displayed in her home which is open to the public by appointment.

Calle Homobono 2, corner of Animas
Zona Centro
Cell: 415 1190405

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