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But I also understood, that I lacked of many esoteric elements of the Hyperborean
Wisdom. But, if the first question should be left open, the second «was spinning in my head»,
about the «family proof», I would not delay to investigate. Belicena Villca, indeed, had assured,

in the Fourth Day, that my family was «destined to produce an archetypal honey, the exquisite
squash of the sweet». That was the first new that I had about the matter and I would try, at
least, to check it with my close relatives.

Chapter II

Since my mom gave me the briefcase with the letter of Belicena Villca, until the moment
in which I took the decision to fulfil her posthumous request, four days had elapsed. Certainly,
I read the letter in record time, due to its extension and profundity, remaining isolated in my
room and descending, from time to time, for some food. Finally, one afternoon, I descended
quietly, with the mysterious briefcase in my hands, and I sat within my people, who were as
usual at that time deployed in the posterior courtyard. With the head reclined, and the gaze
lost in the remoteness of the hills, I remained in silence for a long time. During that lapse no
one interrupted, accustomed to see me studying beneath the shadow of the gigantesque oak-
tree. Only the murmur of the wind in the leaves, the trill of the birds, and the ras, ras, of
Canuto when he scratched his body each time I saw him, accompanied my meditation.

I stood up abruptly, putting aside the bench of the garden. Next to the near lapacho-
trees, were my parents: Mom darning the socks of my nephews and Dad reading a European
seminary that arrives fifteen days delayed; in the meantime, the cassette of Angelito Vargas,
rewound for umpteenth time, involving us all with «Three corners».

–Dad, Mom –I said emphatically– Did you have in your family ancestors or relatives who
followed an office or craftsmanship by tradition?

–That was a very common custom in Europe –My father responded thoughtful– today
unfortunately forgotten. In my family existed many doctors like you, Arturo, and even
apothecaries as my father, but without being a law, because we had many agriculturists like me:
my father laughed celebrating his occurrence.

The family of your mother instead, –he continued more relaxed–have also a tradition of
the cultivation and production of sugar. You know that I knew her in Egypt when my father, in
the 35, decided to open new markets for the trading of tannin, considering that the textile
industry of Europe and America worked subjected to rigid monopolies. My father was thinking

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