These PCs didn't evoke life, color, feelings for me. Outside my window life throbs and swooshes and streaks and tumbles and screeches and bellows and hums and sings. Wood smoke carries roasting meat smells, sometimes the river sends up the scent of its human contents. On the other hand, when I look at my laptop, I am reminded of office cubbies and water coolers and deadlines and drab colors and bland people acting important. Well, they are I guess, but the language of the modern world of commerce and government and aid organizations is stripped not to basics, but to beige and gray and put on paper without curves or flourishes or anything that might give a hint of real life.
But having my hard disk crash and take everything with it has been what shall I say, a learning experience. Kind of like a miniature version of having my house burn down. Everything I would try to grab from my burning house: letters, poems, photos, bits of thought, is gone. I am sad.
Yes, I did backup stuff, save some of it, but I saved the oficially important things, not the really important things. I have learned.
I still have the last 173 pictures I took. I hadn't downloaded them at the time of the crash. One of the events recorded is the Universidad Verucruzana annual feria del libro universitario. All kinds of books get to be called university books, so it's a lot of fun to go to. This year as last it was held in the Museo de Transporte, a stark aluminum and glass structure clearly meant to look like something that might get you somewhere Here is a photo down one of the main halls off the entry:
And in the feria decorators played to the strengths of Airport Basic:
In the booths lined up so austerely were some surprises. Here you see the Embassy of Argentina has wares on display. If you look carefully, you can see that its picture was taken through a booth that advertised the world's smallest books.
Across from the Argentine display was a little booth sponsored by the Cuban Embassy. Che Guevara smiled gorgeously out of movie star posters and there were the The Revolution is a Wonderful Thing books, but there was poetry and best of all there were all kinds of music CDs. I hope we get back to buy some. Scattered on a small felt-covered counter were some really great schlocky souvenirs a la Miami 1955, key chains and the like. I thought of buying some and sending them as Christmas presents, but then I thought if customs found them I might get our kids, the gift recipients, onto strange lists of undesirable people. So I thought maybe, just bring a couple with me next time I went home. But no....I left them.
There were thousands and thousands of books and I managed to get away with only buying three! I was so impressed with myself. But then we have some good bookstores here, so it's just easy virtue.
And to officially open the bookfair an excellent and very stylish Latin jazz combo:
Wonderful!