Give me your hand. We have to cross the river and my strength fails me. Hold me as if I were an abandoned package in a wicker basket, a lump that moves and cries in the twilight. Cross the river with me. Even if this time the waters don't part before us. Even if this time God doesn't come to our aid and a flurry of arrows riddles our backs. Even if there is no river.
--Luis Alberto de Cuenca Translated from Spanish by Gustavo Pérez Firmat
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