The streetfilled with tomatoes,midday,summer,light ishalvedlikeatomato,its juicerunsthrough the streets.In December,unabated,the tomatoinvadesthe kitchen,it enters at lunchtime,takesits easeon countertops,among glasses,butter dishes,blue saltcellars.It shedsits own light,benign majesty. nUnfortunately, we mustmurder it:the knifesinksinto living flesh,redvisceraa coolsun,profound,inexhaustible,populates the saladsof Chile,happily, it is wedto the clear onion,and…