I didn´t know this trip too i would swim in so much silence

but i do now.
today, again, i have told my love, no mas engles! originally inspired by our friends that we met in Pisco Elqui, Charles and Latia. But we easily let it fall to the wayside due to the clambor for expression and the need for things to get done to make the next destination. but today, i know my position holds more weight. we will only spean in spanish we will. you have all witnessed my affirmation and can hold me to it.

summer picked up a book a few days ago in spanish about hitler. there are many theories that hitler never burned in to ashes but instead, fled to argentina like many of the other nazi generals, etc... the book she found was of exactly this subject. she decided today to tackle it, to translate. she speaks well but reading is a whole other story ( no pun intended). i bought my first South American literary works, a book of short stories by a nobel prize winning author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez. as we sat down at a cafe for mate´and cafe´, i snuggled in to my exciting first short story. i eyed summer occassionaly from my periphial vision and admired her for taking on the struggle with translator in hand, all the way. if she could climb the next level, so could i.

but damn, how i lapped up my book in english, thinking each moment that i didn´t have to talk, i could just enjoy the journey of words. the more i sank my teeth in to the new book, the more i dreaded the next conversation. i felt sorry for those struggling toddlers taking their first steps and the little babies trying to just say what they want and it all comes out in a cry. and we as adults find it annoying to hear ¨that baby screaming behind me in the airplane¨. you know what, a big bird to those adults without patience. coming from an adult who has regressed to infancy, please, a call for patience.

the difference that compounds the feeling of infancy is that oh so adult sence of pride. yes, i am prideful like the next one. it is the reason, i sit in silence even when i understand the words coming at me. ¨what if i säy the wrong word?¨; what if i say the right word incorrectly?¨ these voices,in english,run through my head. at least as that child no one has made you feel stupid for saying or doing the wrong thing. at least as that child you haven´t felt the reality of utter sensitivity.

but maybe i digress too much. perhaps i linger on this computer with you all so that i don´t have to face the music when the earbugs are pulled from my lobes and the conversation goes on in the language i don´t know but so hunger to grasp.

i just had a random thought.always, even as a poet, i feel somewhat contrived in speaking lyrically with imagery too flowery or just too poetic. but perhaps it is the only serious space that i can express wonderment in the mundane. possible´, yes. as a matter of fact it is the space that i can just truly reveal those minor epiphanies opened in my daily life. i wish we could all walk around and converse as though we were in a shakespearean play or in a sharon olds poem. but maybe we can´t handle the consistancy of depth and the splattering of human raw guts with each word said.

pero, again i transgress. i long so hard to speak with all the flora and fauna of a blog or a poem just in common every day. but now as a prideful infant, i am left with nothing but crib talk.

my lovely summer calls, "listo", time for dinner. wish me luck in the conversations over food. thank god she has the patiance to hear me out in my stammers and calm me in my frustrations. i will try not to slip in to silence...