Texts by Eduardo López Moreno®
In villages where Indigenous people still speak with the land, weddings are not events; they are acts of memory. No one remembers when the custom began, yet everyone knows the path must be walked, that the body must feel the distance between home and church, between childhood and promise. Here, marriage is not announced with fireworks but with slow steps, embroidered cloth, flowers cut at dawn, and a silence as heavy as an ancient prayer.
The bride walks first. She is not the queen of the day but its guardian. She wears her mother’s veil, her grandmother’s blouse, and carries the gaze of the girls following behind, learning—without knowing—that they are already saying farewell to what has not yet vanished. In every gesture there is a language not taught in schools: the language of things done because they have always been done this way.
