The hour is blue.

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Ode to Aosta

By FARHA GUERRERO

Aosta, ti ho visitato per meno di una settimana e mezza; un tempo trascorso tra alte vette e una città murata che poggia ancora su una griglia romana. Augusta Praetoria Salassorum è il tuo antico nome, e presto sarò tra le tue rovine, questa volta non come turista, ma come qualcuno che vivrà in te per decenni, se avrò la fortuna di vivere quegli anni. Parlerò le tue molte lingue, sognando illusioni poliglotte di notte, e di giorno porterò la mia penna sulla carta nei tuoi caffè. A volte uno scrittore deve lasciare il luogo in cui è nato, anche se solo temporaneamente, attraversando gli oceani come fece Hemingway.

Il tuo nome, ora stampato sul nostra targa dell'auto, indica due case: BELLA BRITISH COLUMBIA e AOSTA. Un gesto forse infantile, ma non può uno scarno slogan definire la propria vita futura?

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La Chute

I had a date with Albert Camus on the chairlift this morning, but then I realized I forgot my headphones.

Dommage, I said to myself. Une autre fois Monsieur Camus, une autre fois.

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Crossing out

By FARHA GUERRERO

When I write, my right ring-finger is steady on the delete button.

Cuando escribo, mi dedo anular derecho está fijo en el botón de borrar.

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You are what you read

By FARHA GUERRERO

You are what you read
Vos sos lo que lees
Tu sei ciò che leggi
Tu es ce que tu lis

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Literary Translation of Varga Llosa’s “Regreso al Medioevo”

Partially Translated by FARHA GUERRERO

Para todos nosotros es difícil aceptar que todo lo hermoso que tiene la vida, la aventura permanente que ella es o podría ser, es obra exclusiva de la muerte, de saber que en algún momento esta vida tendrá punto final. Que si la muerte no existiera la vida sería infinitamente aburrida, sin aventura ni misterio, una repetición cacofónica de experiencias hasta la saciedad más truculenta y estúpida. Qué es gracias a la muerte que existen el amor, el deseo, la fantasía, las artes, la ciencia, los libros, la cultura, es decir, todas aquellas cosas que hacen la vida llevadera, impredecible y excitante. La razón nos lo explica, pero la sinrazón que también nos habita nos impide aceptarlo.”

It is difficult for us to accept that everything beautiful that life offers, the permanent adventure that it is or could be, is the exclusive work of death — of...

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Argentina gana el mundial, 18 de dicembre, 2022.

By FARHA GUERRERO

Mi marido me contó que un periodista argentino dijo una vez: “La vida es eso que pasa entre Mundial y Mundial”.

Si lo pensamos bien, a nuestra edad, si tenemos suerte, viviremos para ver otros diez Mundiales. Eso no parece mucho.

Y dentro de esos diez mundiales, si tenemos suerte, veremos a nuestro equipo llegar a la final, quizás un puñado de veces, como hemos visto a Argentina en los últimos cuarenta y cuatro años.

Así como la Copa del Mundo es impredecible, nuestras vidas también lo son. No podemos predecir el ganador, ni durante el partido de hoy contra Francia, ni dentro de cuatro años.

Tampoco podemos predecir lo que nos ocurrirá en los próximos cuatro años.

Es este tipo de incertidumbre de la vida y la absurda ironía de la misma, lo que nos hace seguir viviendo; viviendo para ver el próximo Mundial, viviendo para ver si nuestras naciones llegarán a la...

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Argentina Wins - December 18, 2022

By FARHA GUERRERO

My husband told me that an Argentine reporter once said: “La vida es eso que pasa entre Mundial y Mundial, life passes from one World Cup to another.”

If I think about it, at my age, if I am lucky, I will live to see another ten World Cups.

That’s a small number.

And within those ten World Cups, again if I am lucky, I will see our team into the finals, maybe a handful of times, like we have seen Argentina in the last forty-four years.

Just as the World Cup is unpredictable, our lives are equally so. We couldn’t predict the winner in today’s game with France, and nor can we at the next World Cup final.

We also cannot predict what will happen to us in the next four years.

It is this sort of uncertainty of life and the absurd irony of it, that keeps us living — living to see the next World Cup; living to see if our nations reach the finals.

Now even Moroccans...

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The Hush of Snow

By FARHA GUERRERO

Most of us who recreate on snow, can’t get enough of the white stuff.

I still remember my fascination years ago when I traveled to Whistler as a tourist, watching the rain turn into snow like magic on my car’s windshield, somewhere north of Squamish on highway 99.

It seemed like something out of storybook to see rain drops morph into ice crystals and then into huge snowflakes, whitening everything in sight and even dampening the sound of the passing cars.

What I didn’t know then, was that this magic, is a marvel of physics, thermodynamics and chemistry, the interplay between temperature, wind and water vapour. Snow, after all, is not frozen rain; that would be sleet. Snow is formed in snow clouds and begins as water vapour freezes into ice crystals which form into hexagonal prisms. It then grows and develops, each developing its own ornate patterns.

And yes it’s...

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