This is mine.

The Parroquia San Antonio de Padua is just a block away and you could hear the momentum building all morning — trance-dancing, church services shot out to the courtyard through loudspeakers, cohetes exploding overhead, church bells, primal cheers …

It builds and builds like a head of steam in a boiler until it all bursts out on Callejon San Antonio and dances, trips, oozes, roars, and flips down the street toward the main drag, The Ancha. Like festive lava flowing at a Mardi Gras party.

We get them all — parades, processions, celebrations, funerals, weddings, horseback riders. It’s a Dr. Seussian street of imagination and inspiration on which cars are just a secondary thing that passes by when the world isn’t on full parade.

It is a celebration of what and for whom, I do not know. Might even be a funeral. Funerals here are often a celebration of life. I only embrace the energy and think, “Hey, this is turning into a pretty nice day.”

Today it is killer clowns and motorcycles.

Say, Amen, to that.

Just another Sunday morning in the Colonia.