Twelve years since I stepped upon this continent:
A vague memory of tango in the streets
Shrouded in jet lag.
Now I remember the calm outskirts of a raging city,
A taste of the ragged Andes once only seen from the skies,
The flaky crumble of fresh pastry
As strangers wrap themselves around my mother tongue
And I find comfort on the other side of my world.
// Cerro Santa Lucía, Cajon del Maipo