15:03, June 4th, 1976, Buenos Aires, Argentina.

Take note of this time and date.  Take good care to detail this young man's profile.  The three moles that dance down his face, pillowed lips, strong nose and eyes that hide nothing.  A rucksack brought all the way from America by his best friend, Mila.  Treasured and used as a pillow many times when making love to his Corazon, Francisco, in cold, dark places to avoid cold, dark eyes.

By tonight, this boy, whose skin is full of wonder and promise will disappear from the world.  By tonight those full lips will be swollen and bloody, the rucksack torn and emptied.  His secret, soft places charred and blackened by electric shocks.  His father will weep in private, fists clenched until his breathing falters, and his Madre will march a circle around the square of the Plaza Del Mayo, her footsteps drumming a very private grief on the cobblestones