“I found her there this morning, paws up,” said Doña Elodia pointing to the spot on the beach where trash brought in or churned up by the sea collected: branches, plastic bags, bottles. “Poisoned?” “I...
That’s all he said, all the explanation he gave us. He shook his head, happy to be able to wave his branches openly. We were so shocked we must even have stopped breathing. Some of us vomited. The oth...
When you are a pestilent being the world stops being pestilent. Or does it?