TE19 Iberian Adventure
San, the Book of Miracles
angry, then turns his eyes inwards to see himself for the last time. He collapses.
The great red river falls down his forehead, forks at the bridge of his nose, forms a lake in his eye socket, overflows from his cheek, spreads out over the white canvas of his shirt. From his half-open mouth comes a sound: it is not a whimper, it is the unmistakable sound of liquid leaking. Lino’s dog, a red-haired mongrel, barks.
“Ino, Ino,” his brother called to him.
His brother would have been around six years old and he was a nice boy. He loved getting on all fours and letting Lino ride around on his back whenever he asked, even though his back would end up hurting. Not only had he not started hitting him yet, but also Lino admired him and wanted to be with him all the time. He had a lot of imagination and he was very smart. Lino could spend hours listening to the fantastic stories he made up. Marcelino was sitting in front of the house, making the most of his father’s absence, who had just gone to the bar. It was growing dark and the clouds were so red that it looked like the meadows behind the mountains were aflame. The little frogs sang for the renewed coolness.
“Ino,” he shouted as he went to meet him. And he threw himself on him. Lino laughed.
His brother took him by the hand and dragged him to the garden: and at the bottom was a wooden wagon.
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