Music pours over the streets of central Oaxaca, Mexico. There are the marching bands of course; trumpets and snares for hire, chugging along with the Sousaphone, clogging the avenue in honor of a saint. One night there was a young girl playing the accordion and belting out beauties with a smoky voice while she kept watch over her younger brother. Their parents were somewhere else, perhaps further down the street selling something else. I wondered how she could posses such an old voice. She hardly took notice aa peso was dropped in the purple bowl before her.Bring on the pan pipes, marimbas, and acoustic guitars; all of them became as common as the black iron shrouding the tall windows. The blind trio pictured above sang Spanish ballads karaoke style just two blocks away from another blind trio. I wondered how many of them could see.
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