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As a magical memory I remember that warm town of San Martin de Bolaños, it would be the predisposition that took me to carefully observe every street, every house, every tree and every person, was a sick predisposition that began as it crossed the bridge to enter the village. The truth is that people who were imprisoned never saw, good only once, but nothing to be alarmed. The landscape before reaching San Martin is of stone fences all the way, fences that divide the fields of the farmers or that guard the animals.

The heat that hits there, it is brutal , a heat that shakes and makes you blood, day by day in the streets and on the narrow roads swarming an endless number of miners and also miners, men and women in their denim clothes and their helmets and orange vests, all dirty with their muddy faces and knows how much mineral, with their bototas and with their eyes lost of fatigue.

The accent of that place so deep is abrupt, those people of San Martin yes that is brave but they are also great friends.

That town seemed fantastic, magical, full of incredible events and it was precisely something magical that I was told and that I saw, that to this day I can not explain.

The older people (as they say there) and one or another young man who are engaged in the field, are truly minstrels, count so many things that are certainly not so simple to explain. There they wear beautiful hats of sotol, pointy, with short tail and long of front, only by orders these hats are made and there are fewer people who make them, the young people do not know how to make them and the old ones go dying without inheriting their knowledge.

The hat was truly peculiar was finely worked and jealously detailed each curve was truly a work of art, the tip of it had a beautiful fall and said of the old was a hat "goblin."

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The talk spread then I knew that my companions were Don Evaristo Fregoso and Don Calixto Cruz the last owner of the deaf and the hat, in that place the atmosphere was so peaceful that time did not matter to me even though I had to go to Rojo of the Highs and that this was the last and only Truck that would happen all day. We started with the theme of hats afterwards with the theme of the dead and until I told his life Don Evaristo, I asked for another beer and as I saw it motivated that once I ask for the cardboard, in the end I would be cheaper, nor late or lazy Don Calixto who was deaf and who had not said a word looked at us as asking for a beer, and within 30 minutes this he heard very well and even told his rivals of the past, the atmosphere was so pleasant, the afternoon was already falling, in the distance you could hear the mine work hard, in the store was a low sound, but how nice you could hear the songs of Cuco Sánchez. And Don Calixto and Don Evaristo a loose talk.

I found it incredible to hear the life of Don Calixto, had 4, his wife had been more than 20 years of deceased and was an orphan child who in those times of Cristiana arrived in San Martin, things more and things less.

Listen to Don Calixto, how is that at your age still working?

And he answered simply ... eyyy ...

Yes, the old man worked on that, built the stone fences that divided the fields, he could not understand it because it is an arduous and complex work since each stone must be carried and carefully accommodated, the talk extended and that afternoon we made a bet that Don Calixto built a fence of 10 meters, he only in 2 hours, if he lost he would give me his hat and if he won I would give him a thousand pesos, we went to the field, very close to where we lived and he sat on a stone and put his elbows on his knees and his hands on his cheeks, Evaristo and I just laughed, obviously knew that he had deceived us, it was then that we went down to a stream while Calixto sat in the same place, no I did not credit what happened, I gave several arguments, I thought that everything had been a trick, but in the end I have nothing left to pay for it. bet I felt it ado. That afternoon I lost the truck and slept on the sidewalk of that old village shop, the next day when I woke up on my face I had a unique hat. I left that town at 11am thanks to a ride I was given to Chimaltitán.

Return to 2 months and look everywhere for the two old rascals, without success, the lady of the little store that told me that they were going through the mountains and that they would probably come back when the waters were over ... I told the lady what had happened that time ...

Look at Calixto boy is very strange, he has only built all the Stone Fences that are to the environs of the region ... the people here are afraid to him, because they say that he has an army of goblins that help him in everything, not by something they say to him the "Elf ..."

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