Buenos Aires: Mansalva (Colección Poesia y Ficción Latinoamericana), 2022. First Edition. Paperback. 77p., wrps. New. Item #82043
The last step left me in a hexagonal space with five openings that led to the kneading cells. The tasks had been completed when the interruption occurred, but the hasty flight had left everything in disarray. Behind, barely guessed in the shadows, the ovens with the swinging irons. Undecided which way to go, I looked down. In the dust of flour that covered the floor I saw footprints, clearly marked, the footprints of the squad of young workers in panic running to the stairs, and among them, in the opposite direction, those of Don Cosme, unmistakable due to their angle and size. I learned this by reading detective novels: the footprints of someone in a hurry are light, they look like the drawing of a bird's wing; those of the one who walks slowly and with determination sink into the floor (in the flour in this case) like anvils.