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I told you, sonny ...

Today we are sitting around the table just like we did then, seven years ago. Nothing has changed since that: the plaster still falls down, the floor damaged in some places and the refrigerator is empty (as our stomachs are). The only difference is that mom-s hands are ten times coarser, her face – wrinkled and eyes – full of grief. Perhaps on Ana’s and my faces could be clearly seen the hardships we had to suffer for all these years. . .

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