Carlos del Puente relatos
At last laid to rest on the Isle of Poplars, the wayfarer adrift. By Carlos del Puente Stories
sábado, marzo 01, 2025 The Isle of Poplars was not an island at all but a floating argument, a quarrel-shaped landmass where trees grew in the geometric patterns of unresolved family debates. Its roots coiled like the entrails of a clock swallowed whole by the earth, and its leaves whispered gossip in dead languages. Here, the wayfarer—known to his mother as *“that ungrateful echo”* and to his...
