I had been in Mexico City for a week, and it was time to get out of my colorful and friendly neighborhood of Coyoacán to seek out the intensity of the Centro Histórico and its surroundings. As almost always, I made the trip to my destination without any particular expectations. Letting things unfold, with my antennae open but relaxed. On the spur of the moment, riding the subway again felt exciting. I had last done so before the pandemic.

I got off at Hidalgo station, and as I climbed the stairs I came upon a series of stalls of religious items spread out on a wide plaza. It was a good surprise. Promising. These kinds of expressions always catch my attention, and I began to walk through them taking my time, not rushing, letting whatever was going to happen, or not, happen. A few minutes later, with my peripheral vision I perceived that from my right an important movement of people was approaching. They began to approach and pass by me. More and more, until I was surrounded, since I was in the middle of the way of that large group carrying statues of a saint, flowers, posters. On the spot I started to shoot my camera. Some watched me with curiosity, others stopped to pose, most of them continued on their own and moved forward. At a certain moment, I noticed a small commotion: a woman was handing out bottles of water (the sun was already beating down hard at that time of the day).

After the first moment of bewilderment (I had just come out of the subway in an empty square!), I began to accompany the group, who in their advance crossed the square and continued until they turned the corner, where they were lost from sight. I followed them, of course, and finally the mystery was revealed: indeed, I was in front of some kind of procession, as meters ahead I could see a grand church. I would later learn that it was the church of Saint Hippolytus and Cassian, built in 1521 and known as the Church of Saint Jude Thaddeus. The interior was packed. On the street, a crowd lined up to enter. People kept arriving from all corners. Between photos, I was devouring everything with my eyes and chatting with the attendees to understand a little better what was happening there: I knew then that they were celebrating St. Jude Thaddeus, patron saint of the impossible, lost causes, those super difficult ones. I felt it completely appropriate to my idealistic personality, always ready to challenge that kind of epics of dubious outcome. I had never heard it mentioned, and although I am not religious, a believer or whatever you call it, I immediately thought "this is the saint for me." The "official" day of St. Jude Thaddeus, I later learned, is October 28. On that day the place explodes with people. But in Mexico, and in many other places on the continent, he is also celebrated on the 28th of each month. Of course, it was February 28, and I got off at Hidalgo station. A date with destiny, at least photographically speaking.

The parade of devotees continued all day long. To thank, to give, to ask, to nourish their hope. Very humble people in their great majority, carrying images, portraits, t-shirts, caps of the saint, flowers. Children in costumes, with the color green (hope) of the saint always present. Many gave away holy cards, flowers, candies, coffee, food, or just water to endure the heat and the long lines.

I was especially entertained chatting with a young member of a group of volunteers dedicated to helping people with social problems, addictions, work, housing. Most of them come to the great Mexican capital looking for an opportunity that usually costs more than imagined. Impossible, lost, super difficult causes. Those where a ray of hope can make a difference. He told me his name was Marcos. That day he and his companions were collaborating in the organization of the human tide, giving directions, helping an elderly person with the stairs, bringing calm to a disturbed or exalted person, lending a hand in whatever was needed.

After chatting for quite a while with Marcos, if we can call a bombardment of questions from an inquisitive and somewhat out-of-place Argentine photographer a conversation, I received his kind gift of a St. Jude keychain, which would remain with me for the rest of the trip and which I keep to this day. I carried it on every outing of the Patitas Machucadas Tour, day after day and, I must say, I felt accompanied and protected by the little image.

I do documentary, social and street photography. I love walking the streets, observing and conversing with people, getting to know their lives, strengthening ties, and that all of this permeates my work. Some recognitions and exhibitions:

- Sony World Photography Awards 2023. Shortlisted photographer in the Latin America Professional Award.

- Mobile Photo Awards 2022. Honorable Mention.

- Pinélides Fusco Award for political photography. Second Prize and collective exhibition. Faculty of Arts UNLP. La Plata, Argentina, 2020.

- Collapse, from the euphoria of change to the Argentina of helplessness. Book and traveling group exhibition. Faculty of Philosophy and Letters and other spaces. Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2019.

- Workers Workers. Group exhibition organized by Mónica Hasenberg. Buenos Aires, Argentina, 2019.

- Group exhibition of the Jalón Ángel International Photography Award. Museum of Zaragoza. Spain, 2019.

- Mobile Photo Awards 2018. Honorable Mention.