Tuesday, August 26, 2008
26 August 2008. Late summer sun, glowing red on long side of Cola truck. Flash of chartreuse, cyclist en route downhill, tiny rear-view mirror at her temple.
Temple--sien in Castellano, perhaps from the German, influenced by sentir--to feel.
Story from Atahualpa Yupanqui. In the quebradas of Salta--the arid backcountry slopes of the Andes Cordillera . A German mining engineer, rough sort, living out of a tent--in which he has installed an old upright piano. Enjoys inviting up the locals for an evening of food, comraderie--in which he launches into vintage renditions of Wagner. Then Don Atahualpa, with his zambas and vidalitas--todo lo criollo. A Salteño, worked up by spirit of the latter, and having downed a fair amount of Argentine wine, appears suddenly with a large revolver, pointing the barrel directly at the German's head--at his temple... No one moves. But slowly an older criollo appoaches, "Pelao, toda musica tiene su valor..."