Status Updates From Cuando Dios era un conejo

You had to translate his actions, for they were seldom accompanied by words, because his world was a quiet world: a disconnected, fractured space, a puzzle that made him phone me at three o'clock in the morning, asking me for the last piece of the border so he could fill in the sky.

She had aged well; the process had been kind. And she had left nature alone, opting instead to banish vanity like the meddlesome, suffocating weed it was.