Literatura en Español

Excerpt:

The sun scorched my shoulders.

I was deeply tanned, my skin flushed red.

My freckles stood out sharper than ever.

//

This November in Spain,

in the south.

The taxi driver pulled up at the crossing.

He watched us from a distance.

We found the door,

located the coded lockbox, and

retrieved the key.

He gave us a thumbs-up of approval

before driving off unhurriedly.

//

In a little local pub,

we couldn’t pay because we had no cash.

The young owner, with easy generosity, told us:

“No worries at all.”

All the same, he brought us beers and coffees, and

set down a small plate of bright green olives.

Later, we bought him chocolates and a bottle of red wine

with Apple Pay.

He smiled, looking genuinely delighted.

//

At the Airbnb where we were staying,

the host had left a bottle of wine and some sweets

on the table

as a welcome gift.

//

Sitting in the square of the old town,

we drank red wine and

savoured a few tapas.

The sun burned our skin.

At the next table sat an old man,

seventy-something,

a tracheotomy cannula in his throat and

a nasal cannula tucked into his nose.

He kept smoking. He sipped his red wine.

He coughed and spoke loudly.

He raised his...

... '

--Continue reading in its original Castilian language at fictograma.com , an open source Spanish community of writers--