Tribal women from the south of Mexico dress so colorfully that it's easy to overlook the men. I'm always a little disappointed when on return from exploring, I realize that once again my collection of images lacks those wonderful masculine faces I observed but failed to capture.

This little old man, though, is one I didn't miss.

How old is that face? Could be 70. Could be 50. His face is marked by a hard life, so it's difficult to tell. His hair is gray, not white, so it's possible that he's younger than I think.

He's wearing two sombreros, one over the other. His Sunday best hat is covered by a sweat-stained felt one, to protect it from soiling and the intermittent rains. He's wearing a Goodwill tee shirt under a heavy, long-sleeved shirt. The temperature today is pushing 90, but he doesn't want to get chilled. I'm often surprised at how warmly Mexicans dress.

He probably does not live with a woman, on account of he's grimy. Indigenous women are scrupulously clean, even if they're living on dirt floors. How they do it is a wonder.

One thing for certain: There's no way they would tolerate their man looking like that. It's a matter of pride, a reflection on their homemaking.

His sandals are beat up, yes. So are his feet. Which part is leather, which part skin?

Four thousand years ago, we all had feet that looked like his.