By Nick Farriella

On la noché de las velitas, the night of the candles, my family was setting up a vigil for my dead brother in the shape of a hawk, his favorite bird. We used almost 300 candles, lining them like dominos on the cobblestone sidewalk of the plaza. The entire city took to the streets to make candle vigils of their own. From the sidewalks up to the ledges and windowsills, across store fronts and rooftops, drops of fire in glass and paper lanterns turned Pereira into a scatterplot of light. It was our chance to be born again. …