By Gabriel Noguez
The museum was closing, and I was looking for the exit. The loudspeakers were giving friendly instructions in various languages to clear the building, but I was lost in the exhibits, each with origins and histories from a distant past.
As I walked through, I came across a half-finished exhibition; the room was empty, and inside lay pre-Hispanic sculptures wrapped in plastic. My curiosity got the better of me, and I went inside.
The pieces were gods carved from stone and wrapped in an almost translucent material. I took out my phone and began photographing the suffocating sculptures.
I was deeply moved by the expressions beneath the plastic—they looked like they were in agony, struggling to survive, lost, robbed.
The two of us, now sitting across from each other, sharing stories and the hardships of our great migration. How did we end up here?
