Moreover, as I often say, the seeds of inclusion that we plant today may not bear fruit within our lifetime.
Yet, it is moments like those I experienced in Mérida, Mexico, during the training of guides for Dialogue in the Dark, that reaffirm why this work matters.
Just ten meters away from the Museo de la Luz—the new home for Dialogue in the Dark Mérida—is a small cafeteria called Las Maravillas. There, the kind staff prepared meals to sustain us during the long and intense training days.
One afternoon, Miranda, the person in charge of the cafeteria, came over to our table. She shared a memory that had stayed with her for two decades.
She told us that 20 years ago, she had a profound and beautiful experience in darkness at the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City. She recalled visiting the exhibition multiple times, bringing her children and friends to share in the wonder. She spoke of buying drinks in the dark, paying by feeling the coins in her hand, walking through a forest, and being guided by someone with visual impairment.
Her excitement and vivid memories, even after two decades, were palpable.
We explained to Miranda that what she remembered was, in fact, the first Dialogue in the Dark exhibition in Mexico. Now, 20 years later and many miles from Mexico City, Dialogue in the Dark is about to open just ten meters from her new cafeteria.
Moments like this remind me why I do what I do.
It is deeply satisfying to be part of an experience that stays in the hearts and memories of its visitors for years to come.