Photography
"He used to not have that bleeding hand of his. It fell off before my time. Recently my grandmother called the 'holy figure appendage gluing specialist.' I kind of wish she has left him a paraplegic. Having grown up with him sans hand I find him more eerie with the stigmata-ed hand in place. In retrospect I'm quite grateful to have never opened the drawer in which the hand was kept all of those years."
"The tiny blue virgin in the front turns pink when it rains."
"San Martin De Los Pobres has been broken countless times and has been periodically glued back together. He is the only black saint I have seen in my many visits to this country. It seems that in his preoccupation with watching over the poor he has lost a nose."
"My cheeky bis abuelo Jose. He died of psoriasis; which is to say at the age of 52 all of his skin rotted, turned green, peeled off, then a few years later he died a very scabby death. All of this transpired in the bed I am currently sharing with my sister. Please note that Jose was also laid out for the funeral in this bed which at the time was where my mother and great grandmother slept. My mother still can't stand the smell of poppies."
- Maria Facelli, Buenos Aires, Argentina, Winter 2008