Cuadros de familia (1)
I still remember the tubes meandering out of him in the desperation of the ICU. He would be dead in a jiffy, doctors said. Ten years later, I see my father standing at the door, resting on his walking stick, thoroughly shaping words like gems, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. A fascinating puzzle of will and faith caged in a paralyzed body.
August 20, 2005
The Eighth Day @ 2026
