What happened: One of the students at the school had a birthday and the teachers sang happy birthday in Spanish.
The young man and I had a gordita each with a red chili salsa, and tall plastic cups of horchata in a hot diner.
We sat in a plaza. A girl more or less than 16 years passed me her baby to hold when she came to sell us a lollipop. Another lady sold us marzipan because she was out of a job and ‘42, they say that’s too old, but come on’, or similar. The young man showed me the book he reads to learn English vocabulary, circa 1975, complete with dated dialogues (darling) and era-specific photographs.
A minor mutiny at the school today when continued with basic lessons rather than the past tense.
At the vegetarian restaurant: watercress, spinach and lettuce salad with peanuts; bean soup; soya gordita; potato kofta ball in a tomato sauce; orange jelly; what can only have been parsley water. Many people dining.
There’s more, and it doesn’t have to be something new. The life of things, small, unknown things, is everywhere. And in the day where flavour seems lost, the things have a detail, a mood, and a chance. Not all / is lost. If one rather than the other seems indistinguishable, then there isn’t right or wrong. And in the crack, something like light.