In the sleepy barrio of San Miguel, nothing really spectacular ever happened that was capable of putting it on the world map. If not for my grandparents who lived in the barrio and the chapel where I found my childhood superhero, the place would have nothing else that could entice me.
When I was about six, my father took me to San Miguel to stay a week with my grandparents. They were thrilled to have me.
My grandmother was tender and tolerant. She was the one who would lift the restrictions imposed on me by my parents. I loved her for that, giving me the chance to release all the energies of a restless boy. She was the best.
My grandfather, on the other hand, was a man of few words but
