Skin on Sundays

83 /168
The Ladder

The Ladder

Like a visceral compass
the ladder
was always there
no matter if
we saw it.

Sunday,

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MODEL: Daniel is 30, from Mexico City, Mexico. I went to Daniel’s apartment a few blocks from my own to take the picture, and even though we had never met, I already knew upon arrival that he wasn’t going to kill me. Either I have solid instincts for avoiding death, or he’s a refreshing blast of easy-going and inviting in this city of madness. He told me that a lot of people from here, Mexico City, are angry because of the traffic and the disorganization that can make doing almost every little thing a chore. Somehow, he must have escaped that, as he didn’t seem angry at all. Au contraire, he was light as a paper airplane floating over a quiet lake. I would guess that trait of tranquility has something to do with his connection with nature and the joy he finds in exercise and running. Daniel seems to be one to disappear into the natural realm of trees and mountains and grass and fresh air, where he can plug his soul directly into the source. And even when he can’t get out of the city, the way the mind breathes through exercise is a form of meditation, so I bet he is able to find peace from within as opposed to needing it externally.