Friday, February 06, 2004



“So, I hear you want to be Tito’s property!” quipped Tito’s brother, whom we had met up with for lunch. I raised my left eyebrow, but said nothing, forking forcefully into my avocado salad. I studied their faces for similarities, and wondered if Arturo was a total wanker, or if he thought that was a funny thing to say. It continued as we looked around a department store. He regarded the kitchen appliance section thoughtfully. “In the future,” he said, “that will be your life.” I was getting fairly near boiling point. Tito gave me one of those sheepish, calming smiles he reserves for situations when he knows that, later, he may be killed. “It’s Peru, baby...” he whispered in my ear with a kiss. And yes it is, indeed, Peru.

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