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had been a long time sitting on the northern semicircle watching the tourists trying to take the lights of July 9. I wondered if they did by a need to remember, to save or to comply with certain rites prefabricated. Tourists, camera, do we would do a favor?, Yes, of course, is to display the white marlin, whiskey! Do such squares cellulose then be able to lie?, Did so confident that these digital memories retain the right signals in a terse two-dimensionality?

I saw no guarantees on what to try to freeze the lights of Buenos Aires, reminded me of those chicken guts in the freezer, the degradation of maimed hands-celled organisms. Of course, scale factors. Of course, the lights will remain faithful for a time that exceeds the expectations of human life. But I forked in the other scenarios.

one hand, annoyed me a little note of a sudden excessive preference for light signals. It seemed to me that more could be worth trying to be a breeze laden murmursdiesel and human Llosa whipping his face if it was a bridge to keep the nine on the night of downtown Buenos Aires. Not to point out the scientifically proven effectiveness of odoriferous signals. Nothing more to meet with a puff with the right properties to leap immediately to the hall of a building at the other end of town, the backyard of a friend in another province or hair of a former girlfriend.

On the other hand, a more distant, lacking any perfume, silhouette of death. Tickets to Paradise seem sold on every street corner lately. Temptation