One morning I saw this car parked across the street from my apartment. On each of these post-its was written the same message: Te amo (I love you). Nice gesture? What if you were barrelling downstairs in a huge hurry, on your way to an important appointment, and found that your car had been "hijacked" by your enamorado?
It is tiresome to argue about whether graffiti is art or defilement of public space. I would think the real questions are where and when and in what context. I've always admired this abandoned building on Insurgentes Avenue in Colonia Juárez, on the fringes of the honky-tonk part of the Zona Rosa. I would have liked to have been there the day (or the night) that the writer tagged the top floors.
Mexicans who drive trucks -- particularly garbage trucks and moving vans -- tend not to believe in anonymity. Windshields are more important for establishing identity than as tools for wending through traffic. If this truck is named La Negrita, Edición Especial, can we assume there is a more ordinary edition of La Negrita out there?
Black Diamond, Negrita Especial -- anyone notice a theme?
Move over Egyptian pharoahs, Chinese emperors, the Bonapartes, the Tudors, the Rothschilds, the Romanoffs, and even the Ewings of Dallas. Here come Los Ramirez. This vehicle apparently belongs to Joseph, the prince consort and heir apparent of the dinastía.
What can we say about the Ramírez dynasty's political leanings? Their garbage trucks bear the emblem of the Mexico City government, in the delegación Cuauhtémoc.
Am I the only one uncomfortable with this other legend?