To know Bogotá along with its past is very easy, because her past is always present, available to everyone who can truly appreciate it. In its nineteenth-century houses of colonial eaves and balconies is where the neighborhood of La Candelaria hides its ghosts; ghosts that once inhabited hidden courtyards and hallways.
Rain bathed cobblestones, like petrified loaves of bread, reflect the clopping feet of man and beast. A family of umbrellas held by long departed souls; their bobbing ceased by the artist’s hand.
“I walked the avenue, ’til my legs felt like stone, I heard the voices of friends, vanished and gone, At night I could hear the blood in my veins, It was just as black and whispering as the rain, …” – Bruce Springsteen
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