It was in December 2010 that I first set foot in the writer Rodolfo Fogwill’s house. This was in the Palermo neighborhood of Buenos Aires, four blocks from where Jorge Luis Borges once lived. Fogwill’...
Ed left Jal with the unnamed mare. Clarita should be the one to baptise her. The animal behaved itself on the journey. Nothing happened along the way to give credence to the Indian’s prophesying. The...
Ed grabbed his shotgun and leaned out of the window. The road was deserted. The galloping, however, went on.