So I told Ella I was going to sleep. Oops. Didn't mean to lie, and I do have an awful headache, but I just had to post. Ay, mi.
I have a 3-page list of things I miss from home, ranging from grass (they have NONE here!) to 24-hour supermarkets (lazy effing Spaniards and their siesta) (no hatin' on the siesta, but srsly) to my dad's singing "Oh what a beautiful morning" to wake me and Mark up. It's probably not the smartest thing to do, but I can't help it.
Talked to my director today, finally; I'd been avoiding it, thought she'd be mad at me, but it went well. It's official:
I'm coming home in December.
P.S. Read "El Exilio," also by Alberti, about his friend Federico Garcia Lorca, who was killed in a mass execution. "Federico./ Tú te reías como nadie / decías tú todas tus cosas / como ya nadie las dirá." Me rompe el corazón.
Life (and death)
3 days ago