One day i walk in flowers
one day i walk on stone
today i walk in hours
someday i shall be home
O I have been a beggar
and shall be one again
and few the ones to lend a hand
within the world of men
I sat on the the street corner
and watched the boot heels shine
and cried out glad and cried out sad
with every voice but mine
This song goes through my head today
A strong motif for this trip has been the idea of a home coming - its a pretty arrogant supposition. I am keenly aware that for as much as do and want this to feel like home, it isn't home till you are accepted back intot he family. I was told the first day that my spanish was too academic. So i have been practicing dropping my "s" at the end of words. I have been playing with the particular lilt that turns every phrase into a singsong affair. I've been eating the food - breathing in the air and marinating in various mixtures of sweat.
You sorta know you are in when they feel comfortable enough to prank you. Pablo has pulled a few on me and i ahve gotten one on him so the score is 3-1 in his favor. I don't usually take easily to losing a prank war but in this case if it means that I trully have come home then...
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