Oscar Chávez, La Calaca Flaca

In Mexico, it is usually said when "La Flaca" or the thin one, comes for you, there's no way back. Death then, is conceived as a feminine force that brings you, yet takes you away from life. But for a moment, let's think about places like Aleppo, where La Flaca seems omnipresent or Mexico whose raising number of deaths has made her stay permanently in our country.

By now, let's imagine, her temporary arrangements have expired, some permits are no longer void and she keeps eating in the most unusual places at the worst of times. La Flaca's health has been deteriorating by the stress, the long hours of constant paperwork and bureaucratic processes, getting forms signed and stamped, making sure random body parts are not mixed together in the process. (Believe me, nobody wants to have a different head in the Afterlife)

Families, neighbors, all citizens have grown used to her and nowadays, her interviews provoke less and less excitement. Her presence in the subway, at the shopping mall, at the airport, on the bus, at a desolate place is no longer the main subject of social media that once plagued the web. #LaFlaca is no longer a selfie novelty, just the usual apathetic look of a phenomena that has become mundane, dull, even boring.

Decades before, La Flaca was conceived as a laughing character, one that danced with anyone in the path of life and Mexicans enjoyed this tug of war by drinking with her, writing and reciting  Calaveritas amongst their loved ones. Now, with her hasty schedule, no introductions, no dances and no laughter seems to be the etiquette. "Just sign here" the echoing voice of La Flaca instructs the victim as she points to an iPad, "then click SEND".

Maybe we have reached the point in Mexico where deaths and disappearances are no longer a laughing matter? Maybe La Flaca will die from exhaustion? Or from a bad shrimp taco that she ate in Tijuana before taking a flight to the state of Veracruz?