I’m a bit of a Hobbit. I like to see things grow, little by little. I like routines (and escaping them: but I find them comfy). I like it when I run out of something and I buy exactly the same one again, I get the impression that I was right the first one. My favourite goodbye is “see you tomorrow.”
When his mind is idle, he thinks of her. —What are you thinking about? —Maths. If he’s with her, he loses track of time. —So late to get home, why? —Maths. She wants long periods for herself. —Why are you going away for the weekend? —Maths. —Why are you going to Brazil, again? —Maths. She
We’re editing together, head to head. It’s a bio, a blurb, maybe something in between. He’s Neil Gaiman, (I know Amanda is behind me, reading something else) and he’s mumbling a bit, as he re-reads the text: words flow until they get stuck. I take it from the place he left off. —I think that what it
Yesterday I visited the birthplace of Sandino in Nicaragua: Niquinohomo. Yo soy del pueblo que un niño en Niquinohomo soñó. Soy del pueblo de Sandino y Benjamín Zeledón —Yo soy de un pueblo sencillo, by Luis Enrique Mejía Godoy (see the complete lyrics and my translation below) Benjamín Zeledón’s fortress —the political prison We
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