La Abuelita De Kundera

Kundera's grandma and mine both knew every herb and its uses, they knew what was inside mattresses, they could read the sky and bake bread. Kundera's grandma in her Czech village and mine in Belchite, both knew that the priest was the police's informant. Nothing was hidden from them. Kundera's neighbor is like mine. If he had anything remarkable, no one would say. He's a very proper guy who spends eight hours a day typing on a computer. My neighbor comes home, turns on the TV, and toasts with the family with 'El Gaitero' cider when the announcer claims that there's no safer place in the world than our city. My neighbor never knew that on that same night, a teenager was raped on his street, two old ladies were assaulted, and a homeless person was found with his throat slit in the alley.
My neighbor, that night, got into bed convinced he had the world under control, sure he was a well-informed man about what was happening around him. Kundera's grandma and mine both knew every herb and its uses, they knew what was inside mattresses, they could read the sky and bake bread.