Fiction | June 01, 1989

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Dedos and he looked at each other only once when the couple strolled out of the ruin and then along the dusy road through the market. The camera was still in its case around his shoulder. They were talking animatedly about the great stone figure they had just seen. The two young men stayed twenty yards back, apparently idling away the afternoon. Children they knew called out and muttered alongside and glared, but the two men only bowed mockingly at these old crones, who brooded all day long above the dark toadstools of their volumnious skirts, surrounded by plastic buckets or sacks of coarse-ground corn, heaps of sweaters or small replicas of the gods inside the ruin.

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