![](https://images.ecency.com/DQmS1juijyxYq3Hp4Aj5XpJWz7oSRiB2fzLy7SXH7Nb8F4S/1736163204158.jpg)
Paco no longer had his grandfather to tell him about the dream he had, he woke up startled, pronouncing a name: Ángel. In Santa Cruz del Sur everyone knows each other by nicknames, if someone asks about Francisco Manuel Cañisares they may not know his whereabouts. Everyone knows him because of Paco, the old scouring pad preacher. 
His grandfather Dominguito told him dozens of stories about the day Santa Cruz del Sur was swallowed by the waters of the sea, but he never told him how his great-uncle Ángel died, he only told him that he was a boy at the time and he didn't remember much. 
He did tell him that Ángel was the firstborn, a good black man. He said a tenth for every thing he sold. -Mom was waiting for him until the last minutes of her life. I went out to preach and she told me: see if they say something to you. He invited him in and asked for food to be served for him, there was always a plate for Ángel at the table.

_I would have liked to tell my grandfather that you are at my side dictating the proclamation. - Maybe I can tell him.


<sub>El texto es de mi propiedad y la fotografia pertenece a la artista cubana Adelaida Frías.</sub>