
I shot this Sunday while moving among the Carnaval parade participants. It doesn't really convey the sense of color and celebration that surrounded me (I'll post a picture or two of that later in the week), but it is a shot that I like quite a bit.
We spent an hour in Mr. Finch’s house that evening. Two brothers, Americans, have a ranch, and are raising horses. Mrs. Finch seemed a meek, sad woman, with more culture and sensibility than her husband, and evidently pining for other lands and other scenes here in this lonely place, away from the world, almost away from the “rest of mankind.” The house was of sticks plastered with mud, the floor, the earth. Two pretty little girls were playing upon a grizzly skin before the fire. It is a lonely life they lead there.
--William H. Brewer, June 4, 1861