Alubias

YEARS AGO, I MET AN OLD BLOKE WITH A DONKEY RETURNING FROM HIS HUERTA, HIS BASKETS FULL OF GREEN BEANS. THE SUN WAS LOW IN THE SKY BUT STILL WARM. HE LIVED IN A GROUP OF SQUAT LITTLE STONE HOUSES NEAR A TOWN CALLED PIEDRAHÍTA, A FEW HOURS WEST OF MADRID. HIS SHED WAS LIKE A MUSEUM, WITH CARTS AND DONKEY HARNESSES AND PIECES OF EQUIPMENT THAT HAVEN’T BEEN USED FOR SO LONG THAT ONLY HE CAN REMEMBER WHAT THEY ARE CALLED. BUT HE HAD A PILE OF JARS IN A BOX IN HIS SHED THAT HE HAD SAVED F