Against medical advice, Paul (El Guapo) and I made a run to Vicente’s in Dolores Hidalgo for a mess o’ carnitas. I’ll atone for that later: two extra sessions with my trainer.

On our way out of town, I saw a man selling piggy banks by the side of the highway. I can’t explain why the image was so arresting, but I mentioned it to Paul as we continued down the road. As my photography mentor, he started up with the same old lecture about forever losing images once they’ve been passed by. Rather than endure the whole thing, I turned around and went back with my small Olympus point-and-shoot.

I captured Paul as he was teaching modern merchandising methods to the proprietor. Better the potter than me.

Something about so many piggy banks all lined up resonated. Although I had no intention of buying one, I examined them more closely.

Photo: Paul Latoures

They’re crudely made, cranked out in batches. I’ve seen higher quality flower pots. The eyes are marbles stuck into the low-fired clay. Clearly they’re not art. So why are they so appealing?

Paul asked how much they cost. “Diez pesos, Señor.” About 75¢. What the hell. I bought two.

Paul bought twenty and distributed them in clusters around the entryway to my house. Piggy banks as garden decor.

I guess creative people do stuff like that.