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Piove (It Is Raining)

Agustina looks to the sky and hopes for rain. Dark, billowing clouds loom above the church bell tower in the distance. “If it rains, I can finally take a nap!” she laughs. We are on our hands and knees by a stairwell in the shadows of some forgotten part of the cloister, attempting to free the ground from the overgrowth of dirt, moss, and mildew that has engulfed it. The scraping of our metal¬†palatine against the bricks, the occasional rumbling…

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