The Life Work Of Juan Diaz

The Life Work of Juan DiazFilomena Flung the plank door Shut with such violence the candle blew out; she and her crying children were left in darkness. The only things to be seen were through the window -- the adobe houses, the cobbled streets -- where now the gravedigger stalked up the hill, his spade on his shoulder, moonlight honing the blue metal as he turned into the high cold graveyard and was gone."Mamacita, what's wrong?" Filepe, her oldest son, just nine, pulled at her. For th...