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My sixteenth day here, just after sunset. The twilight dissipates out over the Rio de la Plata. Most nights I wander a ways along the waterfront to take my evening mate; tonight I am on La Rambla right down from the Contraluz. If you drew a line from the hostel’s front door on Calle Juan D. Jackson straight to the water, I would be sitting at the end of it.

It’s quiet out here tonight, in terms of humans. I’m not sure why, as it’s lovely, that kind of slightly brisk fall evening that brings a quickening of the heart. Maybe it’s just because it’s a Tuesday, and not everyone can be out here every single night like me. Some twenty other people are taking their mate, spread out along this whole section of the promenade; another twenty are drawing continuous loops on the rink in the little park on their rollerskates and rollerblades. Patines de ruedas. There’s something comforting about all these elliptical motions on one side, and currents lapping the sea wall on the other. …










About

Gabriel Goldstein

Writing about my experiences in this strange beautiful heartbreaking world.

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