Buenos Aires

Argentina has always been a significant part of my life, ever since that fateful moment when Pablo, a friend from Buenos Aires, accidentally cut my eyebrow with his wooden slippers, while I tried to cheat and win a game of cards, just a few hours before Italy lost to “La Albiceleste” in the 1990 World Cup semifinals. This moment was the beginning of a series of events and encounters that unfolded in my life. I discovered the stories of Italian migrants, heard news from my cousins in Buenos Aires, crossed paths with amazing people from Argentina that left an indelible mark in my life, and fell in love with the music of Andres Calamaro, Fito Paez and Astor Piazzolla's bandoneon. I also got introduced to the works of Borges, Soriano, and Cortazar. My heart beats for Yeísmo, and the bitter taste of Yerba Mate lingers on my tongue. And it is impossible for me not to praise Diego Milito, “El Principe” de Bernal, who led my beloved Inter to win “El Triplete,” in 2010.

Finally, after forty-one long years, I was able to traverse the expanse of oceans and lay eyes on the marvellous Buenos Aires, a city that I now long to go back to.

“Y Jesús dijo "Me voy
De tácticas ya no hablo
Pero un consejo les doy
La pelota siempre al diez
Que ocurrirá otro milagro"

Volver
Con la frente marchita
Las nieves del tiempo platearon mi sien
Sentir
Que es un soplo la vida
Que veinte años no es nada
Que febril la mirada
Errante en las sombras, te busca y te nombra

Vivir
Con el alma aferrada
A un dulce recuerdo que lloro otra vez