I am here in Antigua. I am very, very tired. I am safely ensconced at Callejon del Burrito. The Internet works only if I sit outside of Maria’s door in the garden behind the portón. It’s close to 8:00 and the temperature is still short-sleeves pleasant. I’m glad to see my volcanoes again. They don’t look a day older. Neither does Don Toí±o. Here are some conversations from today, translated into English for your convenience. […]
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