In Argentina we call “playing the rat’ when sneaking out of school, a flirtation with clandestinity. Being a rat meant taking off our uniforms and going to a place where we couldn't be discovered.

There were risks: an accident on the road, being discovered. We went, we saw them, we came back. A couple of days later, on the way to school, my father asked me: “Were you in Chacabuco?” I don't".