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This collection of images have been taken by me in different parts of Central America and on different dates. I still remember the texture of their hands, their hair, their aromas, their words, flavors, eyes, love, life, the shared life, the life of all of us.
To those people who walk their stories seeing the sun rise and recognizing the rain, that people enlightened by the moon, where what does not work can be useful, there in the hidden places, they, who live with no rush just watching life grow, where life is reused and shared, there, where the seed falls, where the seed dies and it is born again.
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