Once upon a time

in times of drought and scarcity the orphan boy appeared. He went knocking from door to door asking for what no one had. A sandwich, a stiff tortilla, something to paint the stomach. The low water had struck even according to what they told me. A shadow of deep lack that left the mountain region in a state of destitution. Without finding sustenance, the boy continued walking until he found a man shelling some malformed ears that he had protected and that barely reached a half double. Without further conversation and with a gesture of solidarity, the old man would winnow the cobs that still had the smallest grains in his heart. Upon receiving them, the boy gratefully turned around and silently opened a furrow and carefully sowed. With his intention he went through the drought and the clouds came with rain. Seeing that the seeds germinated and the plant grew by itself, the boy, satisfied with his work, said goodbye and returned the way he came to later raise a milpa and become the Smallest Corn.

The audacity of his intention. The courage to be young, to dream, to ask if it is possible and to answer yes, it is. The value of not only breaking the rules but changing them in favor of life. To declare it and to do it.