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 thing I found at the flea market,” he says–, straightens the t-shirt that says Carpe Diem, and picks up a stick that belonged to his grandfather. To the left of the mulberry tree, the onions in the garden have bent stems, so they can fatten up; the small tomatoes peek out from between the reeds, and the sunflowers are already inclining their heads, heavy with seeds. To the right, the pen. About twenty goats emerge from it, startled, and cross the sown field as soon as Jan opens the latch. They root with their muzzles at the grain that has been scattered on the dry earth after the harvest.