He Is Here, with the Folklore of Exile

When I walked out this morning to get my breakfast, I took two sections out of my Weekend New York Time, the book review and the travel; art and leisure is for later; real estate and automobile is for toss. It reflects my restless heart, mind and body of exploring the unknown places, in stories or in destinations.

When I was reading the book reivew and enjoying my bagel sitting beside the fountain of Columbus Circle, I read this article and I knew instantly, he is here, I have been waiting for him.
Roberto Bolano, and his Last Evenings on Earth, short story collections of Folklore of Exile. He is Chilean, like Pablo Neruda.

I am obessesed with South American writers and their Magical Realism/Surealism, if they need a label or two.

And Bolano is said to be the latest and great master of it, he died already at a young age of 52, in spain, on exile. I cut the article that talked about his work in a book review from New York Times this time last year, the I began to wait. At that time, I thought this is going to be a long wait.

But he is here. Time flies. Many have happened. You are not with me. He is going to be.

I was reading the article with excitment, then the following description makes me teary and smily at the same time:

In "Days of 1978", B finds himself at a party telling a disputatious Chilean exile the plot of Andrie Tarkovky's(spelling mistake in the paper, should be Tarkovsky) film about the medieval icon painter Andrei Rublov. B's version, which emphasizes the movie's depcition of the power of art and mostly ignores its scenes of torture and violence, causes his compatriot to weep.

I burst out loud: I LOVE HIM!

I looked around, people around me did not pay attention.

If you are beside me, you probably will ask, who do you love? I would say the following: The him here stands for Andrie Tarkovsky, Andrei Rublov, Bolano for writing a story like this, the compatriot who wept. It is a complex of some sort.

(Andrie Rublov, is my all time favoriate movie, black and white, 3 hours in length. I just sent you a copy weeks ago. )

Indeed, before I read any of his words, I am already in love. I can not wait to read the Gomez Palacio.

After the paper and bagel and coffee, I was thinking of going to B&N tomorrow to get this book. I felt happy about the prospect.

I was not wearing sun glasses and my eyes were half closed to avoid the brightness. I was looking at the tourists sitting under the sculpture and walking by the circle, I suddenly felt like an exile, a summer tourist in a strange yet beautiful city, like I was in Rome or Paris. Yet, I didn't feel sadness or distance, I felt blessed, happy and the urge to cherish my stay here, my memory and my touch and breath of this city, at this day, before and after.

Yet soon enough, it got too hot and humid, so I went home.