these fotos were sent to me from cali, co. my spanish was never quite there after '84 and so it is with great frustration and humility that i write my aunt the shortest most punctuated emails of all time. she celebrates her birthday this week without pablo antonio, who has recently been sent to cuba to live with his father's family. he goes to school faithfully and according to sabina speaks like a cuban now; much to her cheeky delight. one thing remains certain about pablo antonio: esa 'naricita DIVINA.' di.vi.na. i don't know, i don't know anything. it's so fractured but they still feel like family. we couldn't be more estranged; except for these, like, moments that refuse to die, like when i watched my abuelita change her dentures, or like when my mom recounts that story about sabina fawning over the argentinian soccer team as a teenager in the late 70s, or like when she used to bathe and feed me, or like when she and i sat in parque san antonio in 2006 and looked past all the leather bracelet vendors and plumes of bbq smoke over cali cali cali cali red magenta fuschia skyline and we drank red wine out of plastic cups and it felt like you could hold time in the palm of your hand; like it wasn't ever a line, like you could always be and had always been together; a distinct feeling that all of that was just another iteration of this.here is pablito on his 8th birthday and recently in cuba. how beautiful is this boy? i wish for him all the sones and la-lei-lo-las there are to be had. i wish for him an education and a platform from which to spring. he will. te lo juuuuro, parce.
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