I remember most stepping
onto those islands made
of woven grass, and then I learned
of the constant work to
weave those grasses into land,
for the water, peaceful on the day we visited,
is insidious, its natural inclination
rots the woven land we stood upon.
But all of what we see and do
is somehow constructed reality,
our houses, foods, the daily routine,
'tis natural to see growth and decay
practically in the same breath,
to lose and then recover those treasured bits
we surround ourselves with, a grandmother's quilt,
a tiny alabaster elephant, an African violet,
photos of long ago and far away.
One of my dreams when we planned our tour of South America was to visit Lake Titicaca. I had read of the floating islands but knew little more.
But as we crossed the border from Chile into Peru, my computer and journal (with pictures, writing and drawings) was stolen. What meant the most to me would not be of value to anyone else. So I have lost those pictures of our visit to the Uros Islands and the friendly people there. Here I'm relying on the kindness of people sharing their work on Flickr to recreate some of what we experienced.
Joe Marx, Flicker, Totora reed boat, Lake Titicaca
CLICK on the picture above to see other images of Lake Titicaca and the people who live there. Read more of Lake Titicaca and the Quechuan culture HERE.