Tatoj
Translated by Marvin Najarro The last time I saw him, my Tatoj said to me: «Prieto, I’m going to die,» cold and straightforward as it is natural in me, unruffled, I answered him: «Tatoj, don’t scare the hell out of yourself, we’re all going to die.» Almost a month after that conversation my Tatoj died, the news found us in a distant land, in the diaspora, thousands of kilometers from Guatemala, just 5 days ago. I am the daughter who since her teenage years cuddled and caressed him less; I am the most hurt daughter, the only impassioned one. However…


