Diptychs of Buenos Aires

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Diptychs of Buenos Aires

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I cross the town intoxicated with haste, dreaming times and defeats, imitating the cold and the rain: the heat of the rest.

I imagine the town as a "colectivo" (bus). Leisure time eating badly a supreme of letters with fainá. The olives wait for the afternoon - from the bottle and without froth -, when everyone and ties come out of work.

I like the town, it is an ex-colony of run-away slaves. I like the corners which say nothing and those which conceal everything. Garbage, cries, cats and bad times. And there are some who can't bear what is different...

Everyday a crossword is erected in this town. A cage of bitterness and laughter which go towards the same meaning. Traffic lights and elevators.

Quietly whistling and thanking the tango, the light of good airs  ( Buenos Aires )  composes its rose garden.

There is a path for everyone: for the cross-eyed, the short-sighted and even for the one who does not want to see.

Sometimes the path branches off for me. It offers me fast zappy postcards which an accomplice time is in charge of pairing together. Darker rather than lighter, they are passionate relationships, senseless, ungrateful couples, a draw with pure claws.

Like my love for this town, which can even invent a beach for it, and dance with the paving stone.

Pablo Garber, Nov. 1999