The tin can says he takes requests. “Conoce La Llorona?” I ask if he knows the ballad of the wailing woman, doomed to eternal tears for drowning her two children. Which, most versions of the Mexican legend point out, she did to get back at a cheating man.
The famous blind singer of Oaxaca smiles, touches my arm to make sure I mean it, then begins the haunting ballad that still sends chills down my husband’s spine. Gary was visited by La Llorona once, at night next to a body of water, and to this day believes it was only my intervention that saved him from freezing to death.
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