Spanish views from a small town

Yesterday was World Poetry Day. When I heard it, it was in the evening of a lazy day, so I didn't feel much like writing. It was one of those days in which I want to be where I am, but also somewhere else, only I don't know where. In the end, we went for a drive up in the hills. We discovered my husband's car can get through rocky paths more proper for tractors. The fact that today there is a brush fire near where we drove has nothing to do with us. I've always liked poetry. Short, concise ideas and emotions, read at a fell swoop that contain the entire truth of the world in a few syllables. Yet, poetry is falling more and more out of favor with the general reading public. How many have bought a book of poetry in the last year? How many even consider poetry true literature? It is merely skimmed over in most school curriculums. I dimly recall learning the different types of poems in primary school. By secondary, we were more into reading and understanding the message the...

A poetry recital. A philosophical poetry recital. When I saw the notice of the event on my daughter's Facebook page, for some reason, my eye was caught. It was further caught when I saw it was to begin at nine o'clock in the evening.  I have been completely content to remain at home in the evenings, especially in the cooler months of the year. While my father was alive in these last years, it was rare that my husband and I went abroad together in the evening for many hours, lest he become ill and call to us. It had become my habit to reject any outing at night, except some few nights of the year; sitting home at night by the fire with my own projects was nice enough. But when I saw that event, I realized I could attend. My classes end at eight. In a half hour (or less, with me at the helm) we can be parked in Santiago. I have never been to a recital, much less a philosophical poetry recital, and I like poetry. As for the philosophical angle, all poetry is philosophical. Co...