THE PHOTOGRAPH
It is a fact that I was on the point of believing myself the victim of a crass illusion, the phantasmagoria of one hallucinated, when the sudden entrance of Ezequiel, shouting ‘Mamma, Mamma, it’s time to go to mass’ brought me back to reality. Involuntarily Capitu and I both looked at Escobar’s photograph, then at each other. Her confusion served as a complete confession. The one was the other. Had there been a photograph of Escobar as a child, it would have been none other than our little son, Ezequiel. But she admitted nothing; she repeated her last words, took her son by the hand and they went off to mass.