The Wind Leaves Traces Too

Today I wondered: what part of me has changed because of the wind?

Wind

This morning, I woke up to the sound of wind tapping at my window. Not a strong wind — not the kind that slams doors or bends palms. It was a thin wind, steady and whispering. The kind you don’t see, but that changes everything.

I walked along the edge of El Mogote. The sand was scattered with small prints: birds, dogs, children, dry twigs. But the most intriguing parts were the smooth ones, polished like a fresh page. The wind had passed through, erasing everything. Or maybe writing something new.

In Baja California Sur, wind isn’t just weather — it’s part of who we are. It shapes the dunes, clears the skies, carries stories from town to town. Sometimes, it even seems to rearrange your thoughts.

A woman selling empanadas told me the wind “takes away what’s bad.” I nodded. But I also thought: the wind doesn’t choose. It carries away what isn’t tied down. Dry leaves, yes — but also loose plans, words we didn’t say, promises we didn’t keep.

And still, it leaves something behind. It doesn’t go without a trace. It changes the shape of branches, the order of things, the texture of the afternoon.

Today I wondered: what part of me has changed because of the wind?

Maybe that’s why we’re here: to let the wind move us a little. Not to get lost — but to find new forms. Like branches that bend but don’t break.

— Sebastián del Mar