JP is at play flinging a sage colored t-shirt above head, marveling wide-eyed at the interplay of moonlight on the moving fabric, when a sudden gust of wind (coming out of nowhere: it is a breezeless and balmy night) like an invisible hand takes hold of it and hurls it down onto the alabaster cobra (a ritual item that has been brought along). The serpent is exquisitely, magically, dichotomically draped.

In rapt amazement we lay in front of this spirit manifestation shining like a ghost in full moon light: a perfectly realized version of the dual Coatlicue (as Quetzalcoatl/Tezcatlipoca, as Virgin de Guadelupe/Santa Muerte, ...)