Fallen Land

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    José Cordulo’s house on the bank of the river stood out owing to the presence of an old and solitary mongubeira, perched high up in the ravine. This tree stubbornly repeated the habit of bursting into large pink flowers every year, followed by enormous crimson fruits. This strange tree, without any leaves whatsoever, would have dangling from its arms these great lacquer urns which, when they ripened and opened up, would shed onto the ground soft pieces of gossamer fleece.

    On this piece of wasteland, the caboclo raised a small herd of cattle in five quadros of field planted with mium and colonia grasses.…