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My mind wanders to El Cerrito de San Miguel when I think of my childhood. I still hear the roosters and the mooing of cows in the corrales of the big homes. Back then, the rich people owned cars, while the poor had horses. Now is the reverse. As kids we used to challenge each other into riding donkeys and horses and even cows because we were afraid of bulls (mostly) and mules. Most animals had owners but many were loose, so we made them ours. Animal farm is a passage to those days where El Cerrito de San Miguel was like a large farm. The town itself was magic: cobblestone streets, children’s noises as they kicked on a football and the smell of spring (year-round), spiced with the smell of a big animal farm.