It was essentially as if, having been betrayed in battle (what battles, what wars, was Ulises Lima talking about?), I was begging the angels of justice or the angels of the apocalypse for a great wave to appear, a great miraculous wave, that would sweep both of us away, that would sweep us all away, that would put an end to the ridicule and injustice. But then, through the icy lakes of my eyes (the wrong metaphor, since it was sweltering inside Priapo’s, but I can’t think of any better way to say that I was about to cry
