oriente stack011

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The obsession of thirst in the camp of macheteros in Oriente. When at a temperature of
110 degrees you have not once known the taste of cool water for an entire week, memory
slips into a gentle delirium. Visions of the enormous refrigerators at the cooperative of Z.
, filled with bottles of water, bottles of Coke (vipes!), and the calm conviction that you're
finally cracking up completely: such things can't exist, they're inventions of my ailing brain
Most curious. When El Negro Manuel finds a jug of liquid somewhat less tepid than usual,
everyone runs up and cries miracle.