The Spirit of Mexico

In a dusty field, under a high, hot sun, a man is working the land. He looks like a cowboy, wearing crisp blue jeans with a big-buckled belt, a clean white shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat curled up at each side. His mustache is epic: thick, black, and curved down around the corners of his mouth, framing it like a photograph. He doesn’t smile—or, if he does, the brim of his hat shadows it from sight. Squaring his hips and winding up like a batter, he grips the long rod of his primitive-looking instrument as he plunges its