Pablo Juan came to Mexico City as a child, and every day he brought lunch to his father, who worked in a graveyard. He clearly recalls how, after school, he and his would offer their services cleaning gravesites. Over time, he worked digging graves, mending tombstones, and tending the grounds. From time to time, he shares the stories and legends of the graveyard: the dead man dressed as a charro enveloped in flames, the welder a group of young girls saw, or a coffin from which the body was missing. Apparitions, ghosts, memories which blur the lines between fact and fiction. He has no unfinished business in this life and only begs pardon if he was unable to guide anyone, because he knows his day will also come.
—Sergio Muñoz