“Unlocking the Secrets of ‘Streams’: Marcos Reyna’s Journey Through Time and Memory”
See the river, mud toned and placid. It bends at the bosque where grandpa teaches me to fish. We are casting push button reels. Leafy shadows pass our faces. His skin dark as water. Skimmers flit across the surface as evening winds sweep through cottonwoods. Ancient trees quake.
II. Albuquerque, 2021
They called it the Rio Bravo when it crested and roiled. That was hundreds of years ago, when its torrents could sweep you away. Before the Spanish took it with their christening, older cultures hunted its shores for game—black bear, wolf, turkey, beaver, deer. The valley brimmed with apex predators until they built the dams up north, siphoning away the rage.
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