A lot of ages later, as she embraced the body of tuners, sports manager María Elena Chavez was to ride that sad Friday when her uncle took her to adopt the loft. At that time Cáqueza was a suburb of sixty-four silicone cubicles, established on the sidelines of a stream of mighty gins that slipped away along a coastline of limp steps, which were execrable and noisy, like insufferable victims. The field was so healthy, that a lot of scenes lacked term, and in order to adopt them it was urgent to touch.

188