When Richard learned he was dying, he told Marianne that after he was gone he wanted her to return to New York so that, as he expressed it, she would be in a better position to see that his work got the attention and treatment it deserved. He was not afraid of dying, he assured her, but he was terrified that his work would fall into oblivion. read more

A tale of haunted guilt set in Mexico City and in the mind of the haunted protagonist, Pablo. . . . Omar gazed at the rifle trained at his chest, and no presentiment crossed his brow. He knew it was Pablo's gun; he had gone pheasant hunting with him and his old man in the past among the gullies of hills of valleys extending to the great volcano of Popocatépetl. . . . read more

At age seventy-five, Peter Larson gave away or threw out most of his old life, packed up what was left into a few boxes, got into his old red Pontiac and drove south, to Mexico, to begin a new life. read more

It was a fine old hat, a military officer's hat with a thick lacquered bill that was black on the top and dull green underneath.

A hat like that could take a man anywhere that people recognized the strength of a working man, the slowly-earned benefit of labor and the wisdom such labor produced. read more

In the United States those who live on the streets are called homeless, but Martín had a home. read more

From my seat near the aisle I am so close to the glowing casket that I can almost touch it. Although I was baptized 70 years ago, until I came to this little Mexican town I had only seen the inside of... read more

The money kept rolling in because those who saw the boy went away in a state of euphoria. When they returned to their homes, ranches, they would tell their friends and family all about the boy Jesus, the cave. read more

The other day Deovijilda Lara, who owns a tacos al vapor stand in a nearby pueblo Mercado Municipal, was regaling me with tales of her family's Christmas last year. These mostly had to do with comicall... read more

When paradise turns to hell... A chilling tale set in a hot environment read more

She felt elated, free, exhilarated by the striking beauty of her new environment. Here was the real Mexico, she thought. The authenticity of the place was like a grainy texture, almost palpable, thickening the atmosphere. It was both comforting and satisfying... Her senses were in a heightened state of receptivity, and the images penetrated deeply into her psyche where they seemed to stir up dormant yearnings for something she did not yet fully understand read more

Michael Beauregard has retired from Denver to the Mexican village of Refugio de María, where he rents two upstairs rooms from the Widow García and her daughter, María Elena. With a busy career and even Internet technology behind him, Michael experiences a renewed energy as he becomes acquainted with his neighbors and reconnects with life's simpler pleasures.

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We lie in bed listening to the tympani of rain on the tile roof and burrowing into each other's warmth. My neighbors weren't home when Jaime came to visit, so no one saw him. read more

As Michael stepped off the bus at the edge of Refugio de María, he felt clean, enthusiastic, like a boy on a new adventure. He threw the straps of the large green pack over one shoulder and began trudging the dusty stones toward town. read more

When Ramon handed the ball to me, I was pleased to find it was latex, not some synthetic material. It was probably very old, made from raw rubber. This one did not have a human skull inside. As I hand... read more

The marimba band filled the breezy space with a rippling rhythm, a tropical river of notes and glissandos, bird-light tunes. Sancho responded to the music from home with a roll of the hips and shy smil... read more

Jaime sprayed the dark, empty cobblestone street from left to right with a few quick rounds, mostly for effect. To his surprise he heard the explosion of glass. read more

How did Robert Mulligan find himself, in August, in a Mexican jungle, running a small flat-bottomed boat up a sleepy little river into the steamy interior, pointing out tiny alligators to the wives of ... read more

The tiny casita glowed in apricot hues and beamed welcoming blue trim around the doorway. The mixed scent of flowers and earth hung in the air like rich incense. Ducking under a brilliant mauve bougainvillea, Sharon Advena pushed open the unlocked door. read more

The loss of the old shoes was not much. But the loss of the cross was something else... read more

"If you did not have the money to buy such a nice big truck, my goats would still be alive." read more

It was not, of course, as he remembered it. The plaza was still there, but the buildings that surrounded it were all new and different from the ones he remembered. Mexico and Puerto Vallarta had been the adventure of his life. read more

It was the scorpion in the amber that fascinated Linda most, at first. A four-inch, brownish nodule of Mexican amber from the great limestone flats in Chiapas, it lay on a bed of still bright marigold ... read more

On a starry June night in San Martin Obispo, the myriad odors of the countryside float on the air. Slightly menacing is the smell of the fire on the rocky hillside above my house, where slash and burn ... read more

Bitter are the fruits they eat in Michoacán, black oval fruits the size of an olive, borne in the summer on the capelin tree. Bitter is the story told to me in a mountain pueblo in the northeast corne... read more

It's midmorning in Sta. Lucia and Claire lies on Pablo's right side watching him sleep. He can't go to sleep unless she watches. This is his belief, and his beliefs infect her, fester like splinters un... read more