The Lost Art of the Public Square
There is a distinct rhythm to life in Puerto Morelos that reveals itself best after the sun goes down.
Anne and I went for a walk this evening, just as the heat of the day was breaking, and we stumbled into a scene that felt almost revolutionary compared to back home in Canada. In our home town —- and honestly, in most places north of the border — public parks after dark are often empty, transit spaces, or places you tend to avoid. We retreat to our backyards, our fenced-in patios, or our living rooms. We socialize in private.
Here, the script is flipped.
Anne and I went for a walk this evening, just as the heat of the day was breaking, and we stumbled into a scene that felt almost revolutionary compared to back home in Canada. In our home town —- and honestly, in most places north of the border — public parks after dark are often empty, transit spaces, or places you tend to avoid. We retreat to our backyards, our fenced-in patios, or our living rooms. We socialize in private.
Here, the script is flipped.
The town square wasn't just safe; it was the heartbeat of the community. Under the hum of the floodlights, I saw something I haven't seen in many places outside Central America: genuine, unstructured, multi-generational play.
On the basketball court, the game wasn't segregated by age or skill. You had young boys, older men, teenagers, and girls all sharing the concrete, weaving around each other in a chaotic but fluid dance. No referees, no scheduled league times, just the community showing up. On the sidelines, little ones sat right on the pavement, watching the game with the same intensity as the adults.
On the basketball court, the game wasn't segregated by age or skill. You had young boys, older men, teenagers, and girls all sharing the concrete, weaving around each other in a chaotic but fluid dance. No referees, no scheduled league times, just the community showing up. On the sidelines, little ones sat right on the pavement, watching the game with the same intensity as the adults.
A few yards away, the playground was packed. The “Mickey Club House” bouncy castle was jumping, swings were swinging, and parents weren't hovering anxiously or scrolling on their phones in isolation. They were talking to each other, leaning against the fences, present in the moment.
As a photographer, I’m always looking for the "decisive moment," but tonight wasn't about capturing a single split-second action. It was about capturing an atmosphere. There is a profound social context here that we seem to have lost in the north—the idea that public space actually belongs to the public, and that "community" isn't just a buzzword, but a physical activity that happens every night under the streetlights.
It’s a beautiful reminder that sometimes, the best way to connect isn't to schedule a meetup, but just to go outside.
It’s a beautiful reminder that sometimes, the best way to connect isn't to schedule a meetup, but just to go outside.
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