19 May 2008. Gray morning, even-toned light, one white gull with dihedral wings, illuminated against expanding sky... Claims of patience, claims of experience. Borges fragment: "Y tu, Bruto" becoming "Pero, Che..." History repeating itself as it must needs, in the heart of a seeming wild. En el sur de la provincia de Buenos Aires, un equipo de gauchos...
Lo Argentino. Land of silver--color of the river Plate, "tonos del desierto," a wide expanse of water bordering on nothing...a few miscellaneous grasses, lapping the shore, miles and miles of modest undulation. River boat with captain's chair--a figure, heavily built, in alpargatas and a hat of straw. Eyes on the slow waters, mid-day heat--un horno de humedad. El Tigre--rivulets and riachuelos, moving in and out, amidst the reeds...
What a place for a civilization. Lo Europeo, de alguna manera. Teatro Colón, chorizo y morcilla...
Ateneo, adentro...
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