After a lovely few more days with Rachael and Julia, we are back in the COLD of New England. Winter hangs on tenaciously and I look at the photos and wish we had stayed there a bit longer. Our last day, we walked in the park to the giant metal flower by the law school that opens during the day and closes at night. When we returned to our apartment, we sat on the balcony and listened to a young man play a flute on the terrace across the street. He was playing for a young woman half hidden by palm trees and vines. They sat at a table in the shade of the building undoubtably having finished their lunch. Not quite a siesta, but a rest, an escape from the race in the city below. His tune was plantive and I hear it now in my dreams.
I will go back to Argentina and Chile someday.