I was convinced I had read all of Tony Morrison’s works, but somehow, after reading A Mercy, when I really needed a mercy, I found Love. I have always said I wanted to translate Morrison’s books into Spanish. I believe no one can say in Spanish what she says in English better than I can. Hopefully, my children won’t be able to say it either, even if they reach perfection in Spanish, because language comes from lived experience, from a place where happiness and pain cohabitate, a place I don’t want my children to ever know. But they probably will; it’s hard to avoid that place and pretend to be alive.
I went for a run in the afternoon. I need to work out of me the Manchego cheese and the vino tinto that I’m inhaling as if they were drugs you need to take by the pound to get a high. Our neighborhood is absolutely beautiful.
Carmen and Belén are making serious progress in their comprehension of evolution. They have discovered that the lower extremities were intended for walking. “Mom, people walk here!” And, later, at the sight of the elder number 154 going from point A to point B by putting one foot in front of the other: “Mom, even old people walk!” At this rate, by the time we leave, we may be able to grasp the concept of humans descending from primates – at least, most of us, some, like Bush, seemed to descend from one of the beings in the Temptation of Saint Anthony of El Bosco.