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The time I didn’t go to Argentina

I have not gone to Argentina on many occasions. But this time is different. July and August are rough months in Santiago. Bleak, rainy, smoggy, cold. The kind of cold that has you hugging your hot water bottle as you walk around the house. That kind of cold. Some...

Mental archaeology

What jogs memories free? Like money in the pocket of a jacket you’ve checked a hundred times for change, and found nothing, until one day, there it is, small, yet important. Today I misplaced a pen I’d been using, and reached into my bag to get another,...