"What did you see?" Don Mateo asked.
At the deepest chamber, the lantern light fell upon a natural hollow in the rock. Inside, resting on a bed of moss, lay a single object: a small, cracked hand mirror, its silver backing tarnished black. el tesoro de la juventud
"No," she admitted, "you're the only one who isn't. That's why I believe you know where it is." "What did you see
He nodded slowly. "That is the treasure of youth, Lucía. Not to keep your young body forever. But to see, while you are still young, that every wrinkle, every scar, every loss and every joy—it all belongs to you. The treasure is not eternal life. It is knowing, early enough, that this life—finite, fragile, yours—is already enough." "No," she admitted, "you're the only one who isn't
Don Mateo picked it up gently, as if it were a sleeping bird. "Look into it," he said.