By
Hugo J. Quizhpi
On a cloudy afternoon in Ecuador, my father passed away in a hospital. A dozen hours later I arrived from Miami. Then the rest of my family flew in from New York, which was where my father had spent the majority of his working life.
I spent a week there, contemplating his life while walking along the roads he once had walked on. These photos were taken during that period. The feline pupils widening in the shadows were on the rooftop of his boyhood home in the countryside. The bar of soap on the concrete sink was in the patio where he had once run around as a kid. The photo of the mother and daughter, who seem absorbed in different directions, were taken in Cuenca, which was the city he had retired to about a decade ago. Then there are the black shoes worn by my siblings during his funeral, which took place on the foothills of the Andes Mountains. My father had returned to the countryside. He had come full circle, like the shoes encircling the torn petals.
Hugo J. Quizhpi
Hugo J. Quizhpi is a poet/photographer born and raised in Queens, New York. He’s had various bilingual poetry publications, including, but not limited to: The Tower Journal, Hinchas de Poesia, Complutense University of Madrid, and WLRN Public Radio. He is also a photo enthusiast that applies a poetic perspective to the images he captures.
His creative vision is inspired by his military experience and his indigenous Ecuadorian roots. He currently resides in Miami, a city whose irresistible beauty provides endless visual stories.
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