today, as i was walking in the street, i heard a kid say to his father - or whoever this adult next to him was -
'...y era la primera vez que pegaba a una mujer que no amo'**
kids can be pretty weird and amusing creatures. it reminded me of another kid, when i was in florence. she was with her grandmother - or whoever this adult standing next to her was - and she asked her
'i understand that storks bring babies, but then, who brings baby storks to them?'
** ... and it was the first time i'd hit a woman i didn't love
on a gray friday morning i left 1011 fragata sarmiento to start my 50-hour journey back to la paz. as i'm pretty used to do this by now, i'd postponed my departure first by a month, then by another 10 days pero si me hubiera quedado algo más, creo que nunca me habría ido y mónica habría tenido que acostumbrarse a tener una belgamita durmiendo en su salón (gracias mónica por acogerme!). pero bueno, al llegar a la frontera, gané un pasaje de vuelta hasta buenos aires, válido dos meses así que a ver cómo me sale aquí en las alturas paceñas y ya, tengo esta opción de volver...
gracias ernán por cuidar de mí durante 6 semanas y más. verás, un día lo lograré y vendréis a bélgica como invitados internacionales de una feria del libro o algo así!
actually, i've already left. but i have one last thing to tell to those going to buenos aires.
since i've been the victim of thieves (they once failed, once succeeded), i thought i might give you some useful advice in order for you to not be stripped of your possessions on the way. if ever something falls in your hair (especially when in the subway station), do not let go of anything you may hold to put your hand in your hair. keep your hands on whatever they are. i think that's it. enjoy buenos aireeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!
ya puedo irme, he cumplido mi misión en argentina: aparecer en una historieta.
aquí estoy (http://decrepito.blogspot.com/). vielen dank herr zaiser
a jungle's a jungle
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I'm not quite sure what to say about Hồ Chí Minh. He did great things, probably awful things too, went to France at some point (where he got his 'political education'), was a revolution leader, founded the Indo-Chinese communist party, spent two years in various Chinese jails, was president of the Democratic Republic of Việt Nam (YES, democratic!)... The only thing I really wonder is what would have become of Việt Nam if he hadn't died before the reunification.
Anyway, there's one thing I'm sure about, it's that he definitely was not a poet. Today, I read his 'Cuadernos de la Carcel', a collection of poems he wrote during his two years in jail, which are more ideas and impressions about his life as a prisoner.
There's one piece I liked, though, first because it was 'interesting' learning about it, then because it was 'funny', though awful at the same time. For those of you who speak Spanish, here it is:
La Mujer de un Soldado Desertor
Un día te fuiste para siempre
dejándome sola en nuestro cuarto,
con la tristeza por compañera.
Las autoridades se han apiadado de mi soledad,
me invitaron a vivir, provisionalmente,
en la cárcel.
At that time, when a man didn't want to go to war and deserted, his wife and kids were put in jail.
NB.: I believe that this book was first translated from Chinese to Vietnamese, then to French and finally, to Spanish... The edition I read