It’s no secret. Mexico is a photographer’s dream, a living kaleidoscope of rich traditions, food, art, and people. The colonial city of Merida, Yucatan, is a place where the elongated drawl of Yucatecan Spanish sounds much like my native Mississippi tongue. Enough to call Yucatan home for seven years and counting. In this time, I’ve witnessed unparalleled beauty found in the most unlikely of places. I swam in water a shade of blue that I could’ve never fathomed. I danced on rooftops to the soaring rhythm of a single jarana guitar. And often I found myself in the grit of a southern Yucatecan pueblo, in complete awe of the hospitality and joy that they show me through living.