By John Jairo Junieles
I have experienced death at close range seven times, the last time being when a young hit man, walking in front of me, shot a diner three times at a restaurant in a plaza in Cartagena. He threw the gun, which fell to the ground, turned around, walked past me with his black cap and peered at me from under the visor. A few steps further on, it was I who turned out of curiosity and saw a young woman screaming as she hugged the body. In the distance the young man slowly walked away. Perhaps the good luck I had that day was inordinate, since others living similar or more egregious things might not have such good fortune. Our war has many ways of expressing itself.
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