By Eduardo Cordovi N. We always want to classify everything. To group things together, in order to understand them better. Every person includes in it as many as they want, according to what they can bear, and then proceeds to pour what they can into the idea: their small joys, their pinches of sorrow, their small angers, a tinge of envy…. The first time in my life that I heard talk of someone who left was a long time ago, shortly before It was my Uncle Florencio, who had arranged a long-distance marriage with a cousin of his who lived in New York, in order to have the right to reside in the United States.
In the end, they established a solid marriage that lasted their entire lives. The family, out of resentment or as a consolation, called him too much of a dreamer, a little crazy, or a bit of an adventurer. But there was a lot of money to be made in New York in I also recall that, at that time, not as many people left with the idea of staying there.
At every turn, someone was going to Miami to do some shopping and would be back later. Twice a week, a man would come by on a three-wheeled motorbike selling fresh fish — not because it was on ice, but because it had just been pulled from the sea, none of those fish frozen for months.
Now, in the middle of remembering, reality takes me by surprise — All of a sudden! In reality, like I said in the beginning of this piece, I had never thought about leaving. Read more from diary of Eduardo N. Cordovi here. Skip to content August 29, Every person includes in it as many as they want, according to what they can bear, and then proceeds to pour what they can into the idea: their small joys, their pinches of sorrow, their small angers, a tinge of envy… The first time in my life that I heard talk of someone who left was a long time ago, shortly before
