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We are in front of one of the cemeteries where unidentified people are buried. Hunter's uncle brought us here this morning, with the intention that I thought was a way to get closer to the family ties they lost over thirty years. It is the worst day anyone could have chosen to visit a cemetery without gates or any privacy, in an open field with a lot of dust and dead trees around.

Path hand in hand with Hunter, while his uncle makes his way on the ground and talks about having visited each of the nameless tombs over the years so that he could bring peace even to those who have never had a family to cry about in their graves.

It's a windy and terribly humid day, like the prelude to a storm.

It's autumn, we are about to enter winter, and even the sun is misleading at this time of year. I'm wearing a scarf and above all, my body temperature has dropped faster than usual, and I'm always thinking of a way to protect my babies at all costs; even if the evil to be fought are the strong winds