The immense shade of a mulberry tree protects Jan Gómez from a late June sun that tastes like August. He gets up from his chair, takes off his straw hat with a green and white ribbon –"the first one I found at the bazaar," he says–, stretches his T-shirt that says Carpe Diem, and grabs a stick that had belonged to his grandfather. To the left of the mulberry tree, the onions in the vegetable garden have their stems bent so they can finish fattening up, the tomatoes peek out from between the reeds, and the sunflowers are already bowing their heads, loaded with seeds. To the right, the corral. About twenty goats come out in a rush and cross the sown field as soon as Jan opens the bolt. They search with their muzzles for the grain that remained scattered on the dry earth after the harvest.