It was the first of May, 1996, when I found myself working in the quiet agricultural fields of La Moncada, a humble town nestled in the heart of Guanajuato, Mexico—around four hours north of Mexico City. As I toiled beneath the relentless sun, my attention was drawn to a peculiar sight that would etch itself into my memory forever.
Not far from where I was laboring, around fifty meters away in the neighboring field, a shining disk hovered in a surreal stillness. Its surface glinted like polished aluminum or silver under the afternoon light, a massive and flawless circle approximately twenty meters in diameter. There were no discernible windows along its sides, only on a smooth dome crowning the top of the incredible craft.
It floated silently, roughly fifteen to twenty-five meters above the crops swaying gently in the breeze. The sense of otherworldliness was profound—the sheer scale and metallic sheen of this object painted a picture of something not bound by earthly design or reason.
After lingering there for what felt like an eternity, somewhere between twenty to thirty minutes, the disk began its departure. It rose slowly at first, as if savoring its farewell, then, suddenly, it accelerated with a speed that defied natural laws, vanishing into the sky within moments.
That day in La Moncada, the ordinary transformed into the extraordinary. The image of that gleaming disk, hovering silently above the fields, remains vivid—a haunting reminder of how the universe sometimes touches the mundane with mystery and wonder.