One hot summer afternoon, back in the ’90s, several friends were getting together in the shade of an old sea grape at the beach in Guanabo. One of them said that in his house had lost a small turtle and that after three months, without food or drink, it appeared alive and well.
Shhh…! gestured one present, and rubbing his chin he said, “Speak softly, lest that the Commander decides to put us all a shell.”
July 17 2012