Aquamarine, fluid like water, is a compound of two language and imagery. "Aquamarine" and "Marine," crisscross diverse Mexican landscapes and cities, of both external and internal geographies, much like a road movie plowing straight through historical episodes into the present. The "revolution" of the river, the people, the they come and go, leave and return, are drawn from the ether about us and disappear again into nothingness, which is a something-ness - if the narrator chooses it to be.
Aquamarine is a novel comprising seven "tales" that explore the unfolding of an idea, of sitting before a palette and taking some blue, yellow, and beiges, or "leg-colored" ideas and wrapping them around like a coiled garden hose with all its kinks, awkward convolutions, and ungainly twists, each loop having its own radius but belonging to the same - is the same - loop. Revolution in every sense.