ABSTRACT
It took us the best part of a day. At the top by the side of the stream there was a boulder the size of a house clasped by the roots of a tree. A ladder led from the stream to the top of the boulder on which someone had placed a diminutive sheet of bent-over roofing iron painted with the national colors. Inside burned a candle. A sign suspended from a tree said this was The Palace of the Liberator. Perched so small yet so majestic its claim, its artefactuality emitted a tender radiance.
