In the park here in Buenos Aires youth speak. They sit and drink mate and talk. Others skateboard, some read and some play futbol. They are together. It’s peaceful. I am overwhelmed with gratitude to be here, to love here… I wander the streets and wonder about the peaks and valley’s of people’s lives in this costal city farther south than I’ve ever been… I listen to the people, watch the humanness of their expression.
This is a Latin American city, even though it has architecture like Paris’ town halls and Italian names like Avenida Alberdi or Villa Crespo, but its Latino for sure. So it already feels like home. Dogs bark, drums play, three friends sitting next to me are laughing. The whole plaza feels like they are dancing in honor of expression itself, celebrating the perseverance of music, giving thanks for the benevolence of the sun. Actually, they’re just chilling like any people in any park anywhere... But it’s my first day far from home and I’m as open to inspiration as the cloudless sky above my head. Why not?
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