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Rivers drag off bodies only to toss them somewhere else. This final chapter weighs sightings of wandering dead, appearing as bultos (dense packages) in vicinities of extreme, if broadly disregarded, violence events. Interrupting some daytime itinerary. By night disturbing one’s restful hours. Such intrusions provoke questions, pivoting on the material status of bultos themselves. I approach them from dreams and work dreams do, through images, never straying far from the river. In conversation with fieldwork fragments from trips to Tina’s Magdalena farm, I describe what happens when she reminds her neighbors that the land, to which they now hold legal deeds, had been cruelly taken from her. Never denying her version of events, the neighbors insist that the rights she asserts belong to another time. Where she cannot forget her claim, they prefer oblivion. So unsettled the ground remains, by seizures past and by others, surely, still to come.