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I walk with a small felt altar hanging around my neck—a spirit that comes alive today. Orange marigolds swirl like the suns of Mexico, Galway, Wrocław, Bucharest…

Rust-colored butterflies flutter before the gate. I encounter the first “La Calavera Catrina” and take a selfie with her on William Street. The procession begins to dance. Green ribbons lift gently in the glow of the streetlamps. Pink, blue, and yellow pennants resemble traditional paper-cutouts.

I have lost you, yet you remain the sun, the moon, and the rain—Celtic, Mexican, Polish… Against the black, colors and sounds grow more intense.

I listen to a Spanish song, and though I do not understand the words, the great orange flowers touch my heart. And I feel beautiful as I open myself to life—wherever you may be.