I found peace as I lay in the hay, naked as the day I was born; the room was dark, it was perhaps the time of day when mothers rock their children to sleep, blowing gentle fantasies into their ears; yet outside it was still daylight, a mild evening, the gentle sky entirely composed of a languishing, dubious pink hue; I fell into thought at this peaceful hour, when cows roam in search of water, and the last of the evening’s birds seek their resting place; and I also thought how, if I were to lean over the windowsill, I could watch frayed clouds shifting patiently like an old man’s beard until a gentle dark dome in the sky would put out the day, and then gradually the dome would become covered with nipples for nurturing little pyjama-clad children during the early morning hours; and I could foresee that upon awakening I would feel two enormous hands beneath my steps, nature engulfing me and making me her own, opening her fat arms and spraying me with fresh dew, rolling me up inside a blanket of grass, and taking me to her breast like a child; she would quell my fears earnestly, hurrying to light the dawn, and in the morning, she would dissipate the still-distant smoke, her hair blowing through profuse winds would dry my feet, and my own misty eyelashes would cleanse my eyes; then a vague, yet vast touch would run over my peaceful body, tickling me softly, ruffling my tender hair caressingly, sprinkling my young flesh with talcum powder, and hanging around my neck a red string, dangling an enchanted, fist-shaped bone amulet to ward off evil and illness; and over in a joyous spot in the woods, below full, leafy trees, where the earth plays its game of shadows and light, there would be fresh, flowing water and rippling creeks nearby and new, green leaves adorning my head, thickets in my teeth would freshen my breath, and honey and pomegranates would await me, ageless doves would rest on my shoulders, and on the atmosphere’s immense breast, a yellow ball would balance, wildly caressing my lips; and of course, Ana was there next to me, her presence so certain, so necessary that, in the dim hours of nightfall, I thought of leaving the old house and going outside to the deserted garden and reaching up and pulling at a shrub branch to pick an ancient flower for her knees; instead, with clumsy, peasant hands, frightening two timid lambs hidden away in her thighs, I slowly touched her humus-coated belly, felt the terrain, designed a flower bed, tilled the earth, and sowed petunias in her bellybutton; I also sensed my urethra, a chrysanthemum stem released, and thought how often we would be able to laugh riotously like two children spraying each other with urine, wetting our bodies as we had done just a while ago, ever exchanging each other’s saliva with our nimble tongues, sticking our faces together by way of our tear-dampened cheeks, thinking only that we were made of earth and that everything inside of us would germinate solely with each other’s waters, the sweat of one exchanged with the sweat of the other; and in this reverie of earth and waters, someone gently lowered my eyelids, leading me unawares into a light slumber; I didn’t realize that love required watching over: there is no such thing as everlasting peace, no such thing as infinite, supreme goodness, nor a goblet without a trace of venom; it was common knowledge, I had been so frivolous, someone stronger than I was pulling the string and, clever, smart child that I was, I had fallen directly into the trap set by destiny: fate had reached its long arm to take the fruit from deep inside me, pinched its long, thin fingers into my very depth, and in the blink of an eye, had suddenly turned my sweet world inside out; frightened and upset, I groped the hay, and as I opened my eyes, two burning coals, I was absolutely certain my body had been carved out to receive the devil himself: as soon as I realized she was gone, I was overcome with horrendous rage and right away found myself unexpectedly, somewhat cautiously, in the dark hallway; I spoke out clearly, ‘If you’re in the house, Ana, please answer,’ it was a sensible, almost mild question, I was trying, although burning up inside, to entice the old house by urging the bat-filled silence and ghosts to take my side, to join me as allies, one and all, and I repeated, ‘Answer me, Ana,’ and again my voice reverberated in waves, and I waited expectantly (I had to prove my patience), but since there was no answer, with the company of the creaking wood and my growing furore, I began to search the entire house, room by room, corner by corner, shadow by shadow and, finding not one sign of her, I fled to the veranda, the loneliness of the dark night sending a chill throughout my marrow: the old garden bushes, destroyed by the wild climbers growing everywhere, had been transformed into phantasmagoric masses inhabiting a noisy insect kingdom; leaning over the railing, I looked out in every direction, and way over by the pastures, the cattle, some still standing, formed a silhouette as they slept beneath an old pepper tree; in a lung-bursting cry, I bellowed out for Ana with all my might, but to no avail, the ruins before me in the garden retained their somnolent stillness, and at that time of night, the cattle were like granite, the nature surrounding me was so indifferent and filthy, not one sign of concern for my plight, what a desperate sense of helplessness! Convinced she had run away, I felt like tearing at my face, ripping myself apart with my own fingernails until I bled, how distressful! I fled barefoot from the old house as fast as I could, my winged legs leading me to a clearing further along where, through the narrow arch of the chapel doorway, I saw — I don’t even remember if I was stunned — someone lighting candles inside; I checked my flight, but only for a second, after all, there was no reason to stop, I had nothing to reconsider, so I took off once more and, as I got nearer, I curbed my staggering steps, trying not to fluster her praying with my gasping: Ana was kneeling there, before the small oratory, and I recognized the altar cloth covering her hair; she was still fingering the first beads of the rosary, her eyes lit by two candles as she stared at the image above her; while watching her pious profile, her lips in small, tense, rapid movement, for a moment I was overwhelmed with dizziness, but I quickly revived and found myself inside the chapel, which was very different from what I had known in the bright days of our childhood; I had stepped into a cramped, bronze chamber where all my demons were tightly positioned, disguised in a myriad of shadows, what a show destiny had made of time (mixing the two of them together!), covering it with planning and industry to delay the finale: before pulling the string, destiny had made sure the candles were lit, and that Ana was on her knees, then generously and liberally there in the chapel, it had left me to choose between the clay saints and the devil’s legions; just as I had done as a boy with the innocent dove: on the one side, nutritionless sand, on the other, the promise of abundance inside the wire netting; since my childhood I had been no more than a shadow, created in the image of destiny, and I had further complicated matters along the way: even though, hidden beneath the sand, the line determining the outcome was stretched as straight as an arrow, I would make a curving trail of kernels to reach the trap; why all the foolishness, the endless scenes and the gorging with expectations, if my fate had been predetermined? As soon as I stepped inside, I stood over and behind her and I too began to mumble the rosary in an intense murmur, it was the rope I was drawing from my well, knot by knot: ‘I love you, Ana, I love you, Ana, I love you, Ana,’ I kept saying in blazing madness, like someone in prayer, someone with dubious intentions, and what ecstasy it was to fondle her back, to trace her vertebrae, to peck the back of her neck with my warm tongue; but my prayers were useless, her back was absolutely motionless, the altar-cloth veil revealed not a single vibration throughout the thick decorative lace running just below her shoulders; even so, I continued, knot by knot, ‘Ana, listen to me, that’s all I’m asking,’ I said, striving for serenity, I had to prove my patience, to use reason, while making the very best of its versatility, I also needed to bribe the clay saints, the clear stones and the illuminated parts of that chamber to entice and bring the entire chapel over to my side, just as I had tried to do over in the old house, ‘What happened between us was a miracle, dear sister, branches from the same trunk, with a common roof, no betrayal, no disloyalty, and the superfluous, yet fundamental certainty of relying on each other both in times of joy and adversity; it was a miracle, dear sister, to have discovered that even our bodies fit together, and that through our union our childhood will endure, with no sorrow over our playthings, no breach in our memories, nor trauma to our shared history; we have discovered a miracle, above all, we have become whole within the confines of our own home, confirming Father’s words that happiness is only found in the bosom of the family; it was a miracle, dear sister, and I refuse to be disillusioned over this small stroke of destiny, for I mean to be happy, I, the odd son, the black sheep whose confessions no one will hear, the inveterate ne’er-do-well of the family, yet the one who loves our home, I love this land and I also love the work, contrary to what everyone believes; it was a miracle, dear sister, it was a miracle I’m telling you, and it was a miracle from which there is no return: everything is going to change from here on in, I’m going to rise at the crack of dawn with our brothers, go to work with Father, till the earth and sow the seeds, tend to all the blooming and growth, and share our concerns over the crops, I’m going to pray for rain and sunshine for our fields when water and light are scarce, care for the ripening grapes, participate deservedly in the harvest, bring home the fruit and, with all of this, I’m going to prove that I too can be of use; I have blessed hands for planting, dear sister, I never neglect even one sprout from our seeds, and am very careful when transplanting, I always know what the land needs, how to appease it when necessary, to strengthen it for all types of crops and, although I respect its need for rest, I’ll see to it, as Father says, that each and every inch of our land is productive, I know a lot about planting the fields, and I’ll also be praiseworthy in looking after our animals, I know how to approach them, gain their trust and their gentle regard, I know how to feed them correctly by preparing the grains according to my own taste and mixing salts into the troughs to strengthen their muscles, and I also know how to weed our pastures to make them thrive, mow the grass to just the right height, and cut the grass at just the right time, to expose it to heat and humidity, and since I’m so skilful with the scythe and pitchfork, I can also cut it for storage in bunches or bales, as needed; I know how to milk cows, I dote on the calves and am kind to the mothers when I take away their young, rinsing the sticky milk from their udders, while preventing the first flow from leaking through my fingers, and always wiping them carefully so they maintain the rich smell of the corrals and stables; I have an enormous store of affection for the entire herd, as well as a clinical eye to spot the yearlings that will someday reproduce, and I know how to remove infectious worms stuck in their hide, all the while forewarning them against iridescent horsefly dreams and rendering their coat smooth, soft and shiny once again; I know how to protect the herd from other stings as well, how to shelter the cows from rough winds, and how to lead them to shady trees at high noon, or under cover during heavy storms, I can also find the best water for quenching their intense thirst since I know all the ponds on the