Tuesday, July 21, 2009
21 July 2009. Nicola curled up half on my shoulder, motor purr, sometime in the vicinity of 1am... But who's counting, with Polo Gimenez's charming accounts of Buenos Aires in the 1950s running through my head. El Tinetense, for example, small club hidden behind an old brick wall--una vieja tapia de ladrillo--where one knocks at the unobtrusive inset doorway--no sign, of course, and just inside a run of grand shade trees along path to sloping structure with unplastered walls--sin revocar--
Este insospecho rinconcito de Buenos Aires, resulta un pintoresco, alegre y airado lugar, donde puede reunirse un grupo de amigos a comer un sabroso asado al aire libre, bajo los árboles, gozando de intimidad y tranquilidad absolutas...
Taking for granted--or perhaps making possible--that we all share something of this life...
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(This unsuspected little corner of Buenos Aires turns out to be a picturesque, cheerful and airy place, where one can come together with a group of friends to eat a tasty asado in the open air, under the trees, taking pleasure in the intimacy and absolute tranquility... Polo Gimenez, Este lado del recuerdo.)