Mexico City means lists to me. Lists of books I find at bookstores (both new books and old books), lists of streets, lists of movies I find on the street, even lists of trees in the many parks and wooded alleys, lists of ills of the city as described by some of its denizens, lists of wonders as described by Humboldt among many others, lists of portents as in the books by the many writers named Carlos (Monsiváis, Fuentes being the most prominent).
A short walk from here to Coyoacán yesterday ended with a list of movies purchased on the sidewalk (Werner Herzog’s White Diamond, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, Fata Morgana, También los enanos empezaron pequeños and Aguirre, der zorn Gottes, Liany Lunson’s Leonard Cohen, I’m Your Man, Béla Tarr’s Damnation, Kanato Shindo’s Kuroneko, Eliseo Subiela’s El lado oscuro del corazón, Antonioni+Soderbergh+Wong Kar Wai’s Eros, Ulrich Seidl’s Paradise: Love, all of David Lynch’s short films, Margarethe von Trotta’s Hannah Arendt, Peter Schamoni’s Max Ernst, Abbas Kiarostami’s Certified Copy, Denys Arcand’s L’Âge des ténèbres, Roman Polanski’s Nóz w wodzie, The Brothers Quay’s collection.
All of these just picking randomly for five minutes in a sidewalk – Mexico City’s porosity, etaleness and sheer saturation requires perhaps these lists.
Here is what happens along Tecoyotitla Street: