Suddenly, I hear a voice like an ancestral echo saying, “no hay peor ciego que el que no quiere ver” and I see the most obstinate of those who, blinded, refused to see: my mother. Another devastated angel, one who left without needing to emigrate, now back in her homeland. Like a gambler who risked her life to get to the casino with a single coin and is back with a tired thumb and nothing in her pockets.… more
