San Agustin and THE TRAMPOLINE OF DEATH

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Diomar showed me around the village, which didn’t take very long, and we visited a friend of his – a very nice lady who gave us warm milk fresh from the cow and, presuming I was an affable invalid with no understanding of what food was, showed me potatoes, spring onions and maize, repeatedly pronouncing the name of each, despite me already having said it.

“Ah, so you grow spring onions too?”
“These are spring onions. SPRING ONIONS”

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