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.

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