NorthEastSouthWest

The plaza in Las Heras where it’s always 9.30hrs
Passing the guy in Palermo (on the 39, my ‘school’ bus) who sits next to a row of old water canisters
Passing the shop that sells 1kg de pollo por 9.50 pesos

I love taking the bus from the centre home. Especially from Alem, after my UBA classes. It takes some turns before it ends up on Santa Fé. At one stop, everybody but a few people leaves the bus and goes to the subte.
The time: usually when it starts getting dark
I love the city’s lights, in that time-space when you’re not quite sure if they’re already necessary or not.
Even better when it rains
My stop: just before Plaza Italia
Green on the right
Six blocks to walk on the left
Anonymes Großstadtfeeling with me feeling a bit lost, with only vague ideas in my head
I have no idea how often I will still take those buses. But I went to Standard Bank and changed 50 pesos, so that’s enough for many more rides.

11th

Listening to jazzy notes, in a room that’s not green nor grey, lights dimmed, candles on, the pianist hammering his notes, my thoughts drift away

It’s been a while since I last went to a jazz bar. Every time I go I wonder why I always let so much time pass between the last time and this time. This time and the next time.
I think about my life, about the plans I once had and now don’t have anymore, about the half-plans and no plan I have at the moment, which is quite a strange moment in my life.
My days are filled with Spanish lessons, tango, walking around, trying not to over-analyse my life, the future. Trying to live my life day by day, which is easier said than done and easier done than many other things I’ve done in my life.
My waking up in the morning varies between ‘It’s all good’ and ‘what on earth am I doing here’s, but I am not sure this would be any different if I was somewhere else, plus I have to be SOMEWHERE, in the end, so I might as well be here, I guess.
A bundle of light bulbs are hanging from the ceiling.
There are two trumpets on stage.
It’s one of those ‘It’s all good’ moments.

16th

I love the city at night
Empty streets, lights changed, shadows
And a different rhythm of yet another day gone by
The temperature: inexistent
The exact amount of degrees that make you feel nothing
Neither warm, nor cold
23:29hrs – it’s Wednesday

Nicaragua y Uriarte

So I tangoed. I liked.
Met three American girls. A bit OMG, but very sweet.

I went to the Centro Cultural de la Recoleta
I love exhibitions
They always inspire me
Pequeño Editor
I love looking at drawings. Because I can’t create anything similarly beautiful. That’s why I take pictures.
None and lots of imagination needed
An eye
Framing
An instinct for capturing moments
What I love most about photography is that by pressing that button, you capture a moment that will never come back.
Not by putting on the same music
Not by wearing those same clothes and standing over there
Compositions of a moment
Protagonists: unknown
Smiles: unfaked
Hair moved by the wind: unforeseen
That’s why, unlike ideas you can note down in bullet points on a random piece of paper while riding the bus, if you miss that moment to take that picture, you instantly know that you lost it forever.

Waiting for the rain, Ray Charles singing in the background
New green shoes
Clouds loading on the horizon, beyond the airport
Homework undone
Reading Marcovaldo in Spanish. Weirdest.
Surprised how people get out of their way to help me find my bus stops
Friendly crowd
The burning sun
The noisy wind
Wonderful microclimate

I am standing at the balconylessbalcony
Halflights in the apartment
It’s a warm summer night in the Southern hemisphere
The city to my feet
Lights close, in the distance
Everydaylife, ten floors down
A lonely taxi passes on that street
Ever there
It’s Friday night
People are out, I am at home
What makes out my own little universe, I wonder
Again no tango lessons tonight
I should

It's BsAs. It's night.

How can you possibly choose between standing on the top of a mountain, overlooking a million peaks, or driving through absolute nothingness – and the buzzing life in a big city, full of art, ideas, buses cruising the streets, bars, restaurants, parks, books, passing faces, existences barely touching each other.

Passing

I love looking out of the window, while on the bus, watching other buses pas, each one its own little universe.

And I eat, standing in the kitchen, wearing my black dress, and I think about life. My life. Life in general and life specifically. And I can’t stop wondering.
I try to think about what brought me here. I try to imagine what else life has to offer me. What will come next. And when. But it’s useless. I will be surprised in any case.

And I think about those tango lessons and I ask myself whose voices I am hearing through the open windows, down on the street, on this hot Thursday night, from the 10^th floor.

Overlooking. From a safe distance. The city.

I wonder what stories the other girls would have to tell, those who stayed in this room before, slept in the notsocomfortable bed, took the same bus, or another, or none, loved it, hated it, moved on, stayed.

I wonder why the traffic never stops. What are people doing at this time of the day? Its night already.

I wonder where Nora’s cat was while it wasn’t at home.

I wonder who will find me and I wonder when I will have memorised all those irregular and not so irregular verbs.

I wonder who chose the tiles in this apartment.

BsAsStriped

I walk the busy streets of BsAs
Water dripping from the air con, all over the sidewalks, all along
It’s a million degrees hot
N and D are on a plane back to Europe
I will miss them. We had a lot of fun.

People waiting. People watching.

City of dogs. I hate every single one of their owners.

Downtown. Nosky.

Embracing Talcahuano

Today: my first day of school
The teacher is lovely and the other kid doesn’t bully me. So it’s all good.
Moved to Palermo Soho. Surrounded by cafés and restaurants. Me likes.

The last days:
A lot of theme and situational singing
Food (a lot of food, actually). Exploring. Markets. Talking. Laughing.
MALBA. Museums. Mattresses.
Shopping
Wine upgrades
Chicken, headdown, filled with plastic bags

Drivingpast