We met Néstor building his father’s tomb. So high up in the valley that the wind whipped around the cemetery’s tombstones and crept under our collars. A chill emanated from the mountainside and the dilapidated headstones covered in silk...
We met Néstor building his father’s tomb. So high up in the valley that the wind whipped around the cemetery’s tombstones and crept under our collars. A chill emanated from the mountainside and the dilapidated headstones covered in silk...