I found something touching about the domestic nature of this display at a cemetery---a fragment of a fussy living room.
This is not Photoshoped. The Shuar had no tradition of animal husbandry and no refrigeration. After they slaughtered this steer (and did a bad job) I found its head in the stream we drew our drinking water from. A misguided attempt at preservation?
This drunken American, whose name I've forgotten, was playing the role of the white man disintegrating in the tropics, at a furious pace. That was not his Edsel.
A candle seller outside a church.
A mannequin of mystery.
The start of a cockfight at a small arena in the town of Puyo.
