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  1. The loneliest drive. I

    The message was too blunt and direct to mean anything that would be good. “Call A. Urgent”. I had received messages like that before but always with a disclaimer or a little smiling emoji. There was nothing to soften this one.
    I called my niece A and got the news. My brother G had been taken to the hospital early in the morning and the initial exams were dire. Cancer. And it had spread considerably.
    The initial prognosis sound terrible, which was confirmed a few hours later. Stage ...
  2. Nightmare

    The nightmare is in layers.
    I am sleeping, easily. Next to me, M sleeps also. She is, like I am, prone to nightmares. I can feel in the darkness that she is stirring, a sign that a bad dream is going on. I can feel her moving, wrestling with her bad dream. It has happened before, so I do what I always do: I put my hands around her and try to hush her. What I always do, in these cases, is to hold her, caress her forehead with my hand and tell her “Now, now, it’s over”. I do that.
    But ...
  3. Logbook to despair. Part XI

    And just like that, my passport is issued. I go and retrieve it, I get a couple of other things done, I am able to finish all I came to do.
    And it is time to leave home, to go home.
    I find myself again at the Maiquetia airport, waiting for a plane to take me away. It is not a happy place. In a country where people are being forced to emigrate this is the obvious place where many of them do so. I will board the plane and the young woman next to me will start crying, sad that she is ...
  4. Logbook to despair. Part X

    I have to stop putting down all these negative feelings because it makes me no good. After all, I am with my family and friends for a few days, I am home.
    There are more things that cradle me when I am here. The city is the place where I was born and I grew up. I know this city better than any other city in the world, better than my current Bogota or my beloved Buenos Aires. I know where things are and I know the shortcuts and the crannies well.
    This is the only city in the world ...
  5. Logbook to despair. Part IX

    So, what are the nice things about Venezuela? Go ask the people and they will tell you many things are so: the beaches, the coast, our mountains, the beautiful women.
    The weather.
    It makes me shift into despair when they claim so because people here do not understand one thing: countries are not their geography. Caracas, for example, sits in a wonderful valley that must have been an impressive sight when the first Spaniards rode along and saw it. It is a series of connected valleys, ...
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