Let me get this straight. I’m “stranded” in Argentina…without a serious job…without anybody to answer to… with a bit of savings and the sympathy (thus potential for monetary support) of my parents… I can stay in Buenos Aires where I now know a lot of people, or I can grab my backpack and gallivant all way to Bogotá if I so desire… Why do I deserve to be sad again?
The same night that Jacey left, I met up with Phoebe at a tango bar. Phoebe is a small and slight 28 year old from Australia. She has very long, thick dreadlocks which provide a lovely contrast to her profession as a doctor. We sipped Stella Artois, speared fatty salami tidbits with toothpicks, and discussed the lives we left behind. It was nice to be allowed into a new archive of memories. Then the performers arrived, and everyone in the dusty little joint hushed or sang along to tango classics.
I grabbed a cab home feeling lighter, humming some of the melodies I just heard. I can feel my life taking on a new rhythm.
|  | 
|
