Growing up, grandpa's old farm was the idyllic place to spend the day during weekends. Through our innocent eyes, the farm was a place full of mystery and animals. My grandfather's mare was our ride of choice, and we could feed the pigs in their piggy quarters. There were chickens, fowls, and occasionally a few wild rabbits roaming everywhere. Today the farm animals are gone, with the exception of the 30 something year old mare, who gave birth to a colt soon after my grandpa's passing, and a old mule. The colt is of no particular breed, more like a mutt, because we don't know who the father is. He's what you call a country horse, goes by the name of San Miguel, and is my mother's fancy. There are also four female dogs, formerly homeless and now living happily in the farm.









My grandfather passed away three years ago. The lives of these animals are deeply anchored with the still beating heart of this farm. The farm may not be what it was once. But the animals give it life, and as long as they are here, the farm will too.
Little by little I'm learning to take pictures. It's not easy, even with a good camera. Sometimes, the picture you see in your head is not possible through the lens. I'm learning to appreciate the background, and see the possibilities. Photography is a school of self-discovery.