MERVEILLES1 STACK009

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of a lock. Men sit chatting, squatting like the dead in the niches of Mexican cemeteries.
And Mexico is not far off: it's in the white cloth suits, the broad-brimmed straw hats,
it surfaces in the tanned faces, in the nonchalance of an eve stretched out in its slit like
a hammock at the gleaming crest of the check-it's walking with this peasant at could be
an old Tarasco) who amiases himself scaring groups of people by uncovering, in a single
movement, the serpent (though not plumed) that he holds on his fist -it bursts out of