One of my students (a Law professor) sends a short poem to all the people on his mailing list every Friday. It is sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in Catalan, sometimes in French and sometimes in English. All his friends say they enjoy 30 seconds of poetry before they start their day. With the same aim in mind I intend to send something brief by Eduardo Galeano each weekend so that the jonilistas in North America will receive it when they wake on Monday morning. Spanish versions are available on request. Please give me feedback on this. If you want me to continue I will: if you want me to stop, say so. Have a good week. mike in bcn
The first one is set in New York and is dedicated to the people who died on the 11th of September. 1944: New York 'Learning to See' It is noon and James Baldwin is walking with a friend through the streets of downtown Manhattan. A red light stops them. 'Look,' says the friend, pointing at the ground. Baldwin looks. He sees nothing. 'Look, look.' Nothing. There is nothing to look at but a filthy little pool of water against the curb. His friend insists: 'See? Are you seeing?' And then Baldwin takes a good look and this time he sees, sees a spot of oil spreading in the pool. Then, in the spot of oil, a rainbow, and even deeper down in the pool, the street moving, and people moving in the street: the shipwrecked, the madmen, the magicians, the whole world moving, an astounding world full of worlds that glow in the world. Baldwin sees. For the first time in his life, he sees. by Eduardo Galeano. from 'Century of the Wind' p.125 (Vol III of 'Memory of Fire').
