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17 Fidelito Sails over Manila Below, farmers make crosshairs of their hoes. Untended crops grow jealous of the boy marking the rows with his shadow, irretrievable X. Then clouds roll in. Some hint of regret coasts when birds leave. Empty, the trees fade, dark and yawning. Fidelito, now out of sight, delivers his name to thunderheads in black shoes. Such are the formalities with rain. ...

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