entre examenes

Tengo mi primer examen hoy en cuarenta y cinco minutos, pero no estoy estudiando. Estudié esta mañana por dos horas y no tengo miedo del examen, aúnque será completamente en español y tendré que contestar las preguntas en forma de ensayos... está bien.

Quiero escribir una entrada de mi diario que escribí hace unos dias despues de andar por bicicleta por un hora. Espero que les guste



The golden glow of evening always makes me want to write or take pictures or perhaps just sit and watch the edges of daylight slither across the skin of the earth, as if to seduce it into the cool chambers of nightfall. Even the raggiest building or the plainest lamp post comes to life as though the fire on its surface came from within rather than from billions of miles away.n Those last golden drops of the day´s sun are like the nectar of honeysuckle -- sweet for its unique quality and for its scarcity. I have noticed that beauty tends to congregate at beginnings and ends. The sun dances a dance of a thousand colors at the opening and closing of each day; leaves require the most attention in the greenness of their birth and at their melancholy fall to the ground; the beginning of a trip merits months of anticipation and the end glows like a beacon of hope. The middle is often lost between its bookends. i am at the middle of my trip, and the sheen of its newness is wearing down into longing for its end. I think often of the people and comforta that await me, one of which is the satisfaction of looking back. Sometimes things are more beautiful from the end. That is not to say that my eyes have closed to the wonders and adventure that meet them with each rising sun, for i am still under the enchantment of this birthplace of fairy tales. i suppose the dimness of narmalcy and routine has moved my gaze from the sunrise to the sunset.

In the warm summer evening of Nacogdoches i will breathe in deeply the sweet fragrance of true friends. Days in Spain are spent with fellow travelers, but so often the only thing we have in common is the foreign ground beneath our feet. We excercize our senses together, but at the end of the day i am lonely. Although our eyes see many of the same things, they don´t see each other, not really, anyways. As I sleep in the carefully decorated bedroom that I share with my roomate I am lonely for the faces that see through me, and which whom life is a lively dance rather that the restricted movement of traveling with strangers. I do not want this to sound like complaints; the merits of this experience so greatly outnumber the demerits that it is quite easier to write about the latter. And many of the merits are small things -- like the tingling of my palms from riding a bike over cobblestone -- that easily are lost in the big things -- like visiting God´s subteranean sculptures in unas cuevas debajo de una montaña, filled with billows, columns, and spikes of rock and mineral formation. Even thinking about all the wonderful points of my day is sending my mind into a cyclone. For the moment i will just enjoy the sensation of digesting a lovingly-prepared meal to the sweet lullaby of crickets carried into my room on a cool summer night´s breeze.
MMmmmmmm.................