Hi Misters,I struggle with insomnia. Slow, tactile tasks help: doing paper crosswords, sorting marbles, tracing letters on my skin. I also struggle with language. Since moving to Buenos Aires, I’ve constantly run up against the limits of my Spanish. It’s hard, wanting to sink into literature, into conversation, always being not-quite-but-almost-there. To aid in each of these afflictions, I recently started translating short stories before bed. I use a Spanish-English dictionary and a stack of graph paper. It’s slow-going, but it helps. Terrestre, Cristina Rivera Garza’s incredible new collection of narrative fiction, has been keeping me company these last long nights. Here’s my best attempt at translating the refrain of her short story, “Sol de otro planeta”: “Maybe every journey is a way of returning to childhood…maybe the journey is the sun that watches us without commiseration, without apology…maybe the journey is the childhood that, in itself, by itself, doesn’t exist, like the monument on which, with their serious eyes, doves perch, or like the grandmother who swears she lives only for the Sunday visit when her grandchildren appear…maybe the journey is that which never stops speaking…the journey is the fixation: the bare feet, the toes gripping the edge of the diving board, the expectation. The journey is the daring. Infinite concentration. Seeing who looks at you from the future and the past at the same time. It’s the sun. The journey is the sun.” As we start to ideate our next issue, I’ve been holding this passage dear. Soon, we’ll tell you all about our dreams for Issue 4. In the meantime, I wish you deep sleep and safe travels. Bleary-eyed, PJ
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