It’s cold up on Mount Manjaca. In winter it snows, there’s nowhere to go. People living there must wait that somebody comes to clean the road. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it does’t. The landscape around is white, the sky is gray and the trees are bare. In preparation for Christmas celebrations, there’s who draws water from the well while the mother milks the cows. Everything underlines the isolation from that other, inhabited, world of the dreams.
