Semana Santa Cotton-batting webs sad mimics of imagined decrepitude put on a brave show alongside plastic skeletons like cheap-version Santo, but brought down from the attic or choir? for a weary All- Americana Samhain --no, not Easter. Or is it Eostre? ...or Ishtar? Pay no mind. The sentiment lost is found there in pristine, pressed white blouse backed against the rafters as we gaze in mute fear and fascination at a fragrant Nuestra Señora de Soledad meditating upon the wounds of Her anguished, long-lashed Kristo.
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