Evening Events
They sat in a circle, across generations, and shared stories of the day and stories of the past. The youngest ones ran down the cobblestone hill holding hands, just far enough to feel the danger of distance, just close enough for the circle to know of their whereabouts. As we continued to climb the hill to our respective houses, a pair of children from another set of circles were rolling what seemed to be a set of light exercise weights, the kind one may keep in their basement, down another similar hill. As we neared the final corner, a caballero suited in a well worn sombrero; a loosely checkered navy blue and white camisa and soiled lived in jeans habitually but not less graciously said “Buenas” to wish us goodnight, and we responded.
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