16 April 2008. Morning sun, soft blue California light. Avenue activities--memorable or no. Pop of red scooter on uphill run, flash of white as the helmet whizzes by. Same with FedEx truck just behind--melodrama of the everyday. Man in white shirt, brilliant, dark dress trousers, making his way across 7-eleven lot, reaching into back pocket with left hand...wallet, appurtenance of commerce. Clean Living.
Placid, jumbled thoughts. Buenos Aires once--a guitar lesson. Barrio streets, mid-afternoon heat. Horizontal blinds pulled down over windows, Italian-style. A dark interior--húmido, mohoso... Sr. equis--pues no me acuerdo. Un estudiante de alguien famoso--eso. Rotondo, su manera, quizás pesado. Algo de Goncharov. De Oblomov. Me muestra una falseta, de Sevillanas, una vez, una vez mas. Notado. Calor de la tarde. Silencio. Silencio del interior...
Face of Diego, years later, tocando...cada instante, lo vivo...bullerías, soleá...
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