Oscar Valente

'm Óscar Valente There is a photograph in my office—number 214, in the Faculty of History—that no one has ever thought to ask me about. Not that it is exactly a mystery. Or perhaps it is—but one of those that people instinctively know better than to touch. It sits on the highest shelf, beside the window overlooking the courtyard, where the afternoon sun strikes it and the wood of the frame has dar...