Dear World,
︎
We wake up in the morning to the sound of the ice cream truck passing by and know its tune by heart. A cheery voice calls out in Spanish through the sound system:
“My dear grandfather’s ice cream, it’s a family tradition, we have all sort of delicious flavors, but our specialty: butter!”
A few hours later a police truck with the same sound system passes by: “Stay at home, it’s for your own safety”
This is Mexico in the time of COVID-19. I never expected to find myself here and now.
4 years ago, I met my girlfriend here in Guanajuato, a small colonial town in central Mexico. I’m a videographer from Paris. She’s a photographer from California. We decided to stay in that small town and to create a life together capturing weddings.
Like so many others, this has brought our business to a halt.
Time passes so differently now. No more writing contracts, answering inquiries, traveling to cathedrals or haciendas, or pulling all-nighters editing.
We started to shift our focus from working really well together, to learning how to play together again.
We began to do things together we wouldn’t do before, we listen to audiobooks in French, we watercolor, write, sing and invent new recipes. Together from our little balcony and immense privilege, we watch the world pass by and what remains of normalcy in our neighborhood. We can observe the people hanging laundry on their rooftops. We can see the different delivery men passing by in the narrow streets. Now we even started to dance to the “banda” music the construction workers blast, instead of shutting the window.
Despite all the chaos and uncertainty, we have found a strange and beautiful irony in that the moment we have stopped documenting other people’s love stories, we began to focus more on our own.
Sincerely,
We started to shift our focus from working really well together, to learning how to play together again.
︎
We wake up in the morning to the sound of the ice cream truck passing by and know its tune by heart. A cheery voice calls out in Spanish through the sound system:
“My dear grandfather’s ice cream, it’s a family tradition, we have all sort of delicious flavors, but our specialty: butter!”
A few hours later a police truck with the same sound system passes by: “Stay at home, it’s for your own safety”
This is Mexico in the time of COVID-19. I never expected to find myself here and now.
4 years ago, I met my girlfriend here in Guanajuato, a small colonial town in central Mexico. I’m a videographer from Paris. She’s a photographer from California. We decided to stay in that small town and to create a life together capturing weddings.
Like so many others, this has brought our business to a halt.
Time passes so differently now. No more writing contracts, answering inquiries, traveling to cathedrals or haciendas, or pulling all-nighters editing.
We started to shift our focus from working really well together, to learning how to play together again.
We began to do things together we wouldn’t do before, we listen to audiobooks in French, we watercolor, write, sing and invent new recipes. Together from our little balcony and immense privilege, we watch the world pass by and what remains of normalcy in our neighborhood. We can observe the people hanging laundry on their rooftops. We can see the different delivery men passing by in the narrow streets. Now we even started to dance to the “banda” music the construction workers blast, instead of shutting the window.
Despite all the chaos and uncertainty, we have found a strange and beautiful irony in that the moment we have stopped documenting other people’s love stories, we began to focus more on our own.
Sincerely,
Carpe Diem
About the photographer: Timothée Ferréol, french videographer and photographer living in Mexico with his girlfriend Stacey from California.
︎︎︎︎
Explore All Stories
︎︎︎︎
contact us
hello@dearworld.org
learn more
dearworld.org
Copyright © 2020 Dear World, Inc.
