There is a group of high schoolers staying at our hostel: a traveling high school! This is perhaps the most fascinating phenomenon that I have encountered in ages. Of course they are from California.
After ice cream, packing and Mate I am ready to walk again. I am fully a wanderer here, weaving in and out of streets, shops, coffee shops particularly...avoiding only slightly the buzzing cars and terrifying motorscooters. I hate motorscooters, motor-helmets, motor-glasses.
I am excited to go south to Bariloche, to feel the wind, to see the sunset over the mountains, to shoot words from my fingers in another setting, somehow more settled, somehow more serene. I am looking forward to the breeze on horseback and bikeback, to wandering another small city, to finding coffee shops where I can sit in the shade or the sun, write my heart out and sleep in peace.
My heart hurts today. I am so in love with being in love. But so incredibly sad with the disappointments of love: realizing that when things go astray, people change, the hardest of hopes are incementable. There is nothing I hate more than hurting someone that I love. It breaks my peace with myself. I cant help but wonder, whether the demise of both of these relationships was internal or external: whether it was simply me.
I want to run. I cant help but hope real hard that Bariloche will be the place, with its certain circuits and turquoise lakes, to finally start again. I cant help but hope that here I will open back up, find time for dancing, find new ways to know the world without words.
