Where Angels Walk Barefoot Through Hell

Mexico opened itself to me like a dream that hurts.

A land where angels walk barefoot through dust,
where children smile with eyes older than time,
where innocence exists not because the world is kind but because it must.

These images live between beauty and decay.
Between the sacred and the cursed.
Between what is broken and what refuses to break.

I photograph what survives.
I photograph the fragile miracle of purity in a place that should have erased it.

Hell can be breathtaking.
And sometimes, it looks back at you and smiles.

September 2025

Mexico