Sixteen Days
“I dream of being back in Huancavelica. In my dream, I was already there. Somehow I skipped all the flying and bus travelling. I was among the Andean mountains, hiking up to the highest peak, and looking down the gorgeous valley. From the horizon, the first blood-red ray of sunlight — untainted of any poison, undeterred of Spaniard conquistadors — rose behind the rugged mountains, painted a mural of warrior figures, llamas heads, potato fields, and …