El Mercado Central
For six weeks, I wandered the living labyrinth outside San Salvador’s Central Market—a place layered with five centuries of human hustle. The stalls, patched together with tin and tarp, spill into the streets like roots reclaiming a city, offering everything from onions and old shoes to cell phones and live goats. Smoke rises from pupusa griddles, voices tangle in the air—barbers laughing, vendors shouting, children weaving through the crush. Here, the sacred and the ordinary meet: a church tower overlooks the chaos; a cemetery lies just beyond. I shot in black and white to honor the grit and grace of a market on the brink—its soul threatened as bulldozers and boutique dreams move in, scattering lives to make way for something shinier, something less true.