An excerpt from yesterday´s journal entry, after the visit to the National Library of Chile (click here to read ). Point to note before reading, since September, my journal entries have been 98% in Spanish. For reasons that are difficult to explain, it is easier for me to do it that way... otherwise, there is a sort of freeze-up in the brain when trying to think in one language and being surrounded by another, both of which I understand.
6:10 pm. In the dining room with a fortifying, strong mug of tea. A prize for having finished a slice of whole wheat pan de molde and a wedge of unripe avocado. I have come to really enjoy this civil ritual of afternoon tea--there is something so balanced about it. So balanced and pleasing, in fact, that I shall do what five months ago would have been unthinkable, and double-dunk. Two cups, one bag. I must also add here, while the steeping is in process, that it is a genuine pleasure to be writing in English for an entry.
The best I can do is liken it to slipping behind the wheel of a car you have detailed and cared for--a car who purrs for you, who knows your touch and style and responds with fluidity and throttle. A car you shift seamlessly, feeling the potential of the engine, feeling the smooth thrill of low-seated velocity, the slope of a curve well taken. A car that seems in perpetual idle, waiting for the driver and an open highway, or blank page, so it can do its thing--both what it was meant to do, and what it and the driver learned it could do when patience, capacity, and a certain marvel for mechanics meet.
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