The appearance of Trampolín beach, where hundreds of immigrants had settled in inhumane conditions after refusing to leave Ceuta, was that of a camp where people were beginning to put down roots. Sub-Saharan Africans setting up stalls with some food, tobacco, or sneakers that once belonged to the 141 people who lost their lives in the fateful mass crossing. There were Moroccans building a kind of mosque with milk cartons or improvising barbershops. Huts, from both groups, that were taking shape beyond the initial reeds that supported them. As if all of them, being only estimated figures for the administrations, assumed that their life on the sand was going to be long. Until yesterday, 21 days after the avalanche, when with a late stroke they ceased to be invisible. No matter how many photos on newspaper front pages they have dominated.