winged horses in the
bluegrass of Kentucky, the
Greek lovers in the infernal
sunsets of Arizona, the girl in
the red sweater painting
watercolors by a lake in
Michigan who waved at him
with her brushes, not to say
farewell but out of hope,
because she did not know that
she was watching a train with
no return passing by. Then
Alfonso and Germán left one
Saturday with the idea of
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