Description
The ill-fated Juan rests an arm, its smoke invisible, on Faustina’s shoulder. She hears nothing, feels nothing, but begins to merrily sing the tune of an old dance, her part in the chorus. She remembers the time when she danced with her husband, Juan, who died three years ago. “May he rest in eternal peace,” Faustina’s misguided judgment will never be known. Looking down from the highest point, alongside the kite, we can see Augusto Bentio, who died with his two mules one night during the planting season. Behind him, perhaps held by his wife Cipriana, is the guard, José Calmedo, who comes from other lands and is dressed in civilian clothes. There are others whose names we don’t know, but whose lives we know. They all walk, the living and the dead, and ahead of them, skipping along the path, the dog walks steadily. How could he be absent on such a pivotal day as the revolution?











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