It was the end of 2002, and Michael Gaeb had just founded his literary agency. He was 29 years old and had traveled from Berlin, where he still lives, to Guadalajara, Mexico, to visit one of the major Latin American book fairs. The first morning of the event, as he walked around the stands at random, the cover of a book drew his attention. It showed a man in a kepi and overcoat sitting on the bank of a river. The man was concentrating on painting a canvas amid rocks and dense vegetation. Behind him, a peasant in a hat stood observing him.
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