Wednesday, February 18, 1998

February 18, 1998
Too tired, druk, and stoned to write. Must say, tonight was the climax of my trip. Met 3 beautiful girls who moved into this wonderful new hostel: Christina, 24 French and the least beautiful, most intelligent; Yoke, 20, Belgian fascinating, radiant, smiling; and Ines, 16, stunning, quiet, perfectly beautiful. Went out with 3- joy to be surrounded by them. Wine, lots of red wine, walking the streets, Carboneria, flamenco, etc… Walk home; fog about to go into hotel when drunk man asks for guitar; I see immediately that this is someone important: duende compas. Walk through fog guitar/singing. Accompany for the first time. Pure oneness with the universe, beauty, girls, guitar, fog, and for the first time poetry really strikes me. I play soleares man recites poetry in German, French, English, Spanish: His own, quotes great writers in such language. Words with forms and context. Words that strike the soul like music. Accompanist drunkness, openness, presence, poetry poetry poetry. Life Life Music…

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