Is this active volcano not one giant mound?

Yes, but my first instinct couldn't understand this as a mound because of its active presence as a volcano. It's hard to fathom a mound formed over a period of time I simply can't comprehend. Staring at it some more on the bus from Puebla to Mexico City forced me to understand its opacity and secrecy, its formed nature, and its rejection to being singular (I appreciate this framework).

What does the mound give us? Is it a practice of finding inspiration in the earthly world? Is it expression and experimentation modeled after a seemingly inexpressive mound?

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Whenever I stand next to you I'm reminded of my being. Tiny and only passing by. A gentle reminder of my flesh and self.

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Popocatépetl is an active volcano spanning the states of Puebla and Mexico. 17,802' (5,393 m). I'm pretty sure it means smoking mountain in nahuatl. About 15 years ago I remember my fascination with this volcano. I forced myself to learn how to pronounce it. It was a sort of false resignation from Spanish in that moment.

Popo...

ca...

tépetl... (to pronounce the -tl raise your tongue to the roof of your mouth as if you're pronouncing a soft -t then let the air flow as you pronounce the -l.)

The mound is amalgamation. It is coalescence. It is the euphoric quartet forming as I write this: breakfast, Belanova's Cocktail, textual expression, and the high.

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There's a secret I hold from this land that one day I will return. Returning it is practical but practicality in this occasion is misguided and unfounded. I wouldn't know who to give the secret to.

This secret requires returning. Restitution. Repatriating, or rather rematriating?

This is not an ode to el Popo, rather the first step in revealing a secret.

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