A mis abuelos Mientras el sol roza brevemente las montañas de Santa Lucía pienso en la abuela que está en la otra isla. Tierra llana y colorada. Cañaverales, manglar, mango, mamey y mamoncillo. Las gallinas custodiando a los pollitos recién salidos del cascarón. El olor a café acabado de colar y la guajira trajinando en
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