Saul became Carlos with blessings granted by Buenos Aires. One land grant and a cart full of seeds to plant a future.

Hundreds of miles west and southwards, the grasslands spread like their ancestral fires across valleys and hills. Carlos follows his map to the X where condor skeletons lay in a perfect circle. Their spines bent in fine curves.

Five days digging, planting, and plowing, some sprouts have begun to emerge. Winter comes. The fields become barren as Atacama. The deserts of sefrad encroach onto Carlos’ spine. Anxiety and the dying sprouts drive the 180 pound man into sickness and regret.

A skeleton forms, replacing the man with a demon. He takes the shotgun and fired endlessly unto the starry skies until his heart gives in to the evils. He falls and lies motionless next to the single sprout that has grown into a velvet flower.


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