Kira

No one, not even a woman who practices magic and can foretell the future through the pores of the tongue, is able to decipher the inevitable tragedy that Kira, a starving dog who howls around a mountain of sand every night, announces.

Love is within reach until one day we find ourselves alone, brooding on the salty and exhausted ray that the sun gives off before shrinking under the horizon. Then we know that we are humans and that no one will change the course of the world.

David Llorente, equipped with magic ink and handcrafted mastery, has devised a novel in which Boris Vian’s disorganized intelligence, García Márquez’s social chronicle, and the brutal affection of a Czech writer who killed himself by trying to trap a pigeon that had been sitting in his indowsill come together. Llorente has shown us that it is impossible to fight against some slugs that, taking advantage of the darkness of the night, devour the Dahlias in our garden.