As the sun shies away behind the abraded slopes of Cotacachi,
the sharp mouth of the Imbabura fills up with gold.
The boys look up, frozen in trepidation.
Mid-air, the basket ball hesitates,
a flaming sky for backdrop,
like a planet seeking its orbit.
I look away with a grin on my face,
uncaring of whether the globe would reach the target.
The journey is far more important.