Thank you, brave soul. You who so fearlessly watch over my sleep all the nights of my stay here in Hospedaje Tulipanes, glowering mysteriously out from your featureless burnt sienna prison, your hair oh-so-carefully tossed to the side, your colorful vest arranged just so, your awkward squat a masterpiece of discomfort: it is your face that I see last every night as I drift into the hinterlands of sleep and it is to your squared jaw and heavy brow that I wake each morning. Who are you? I often ask myself this question. Wikipedia tells me that you are a Guatemalan super star, a teacher and a basketball player and a singer-songwriter, a maestro of all Afro-American and Latin music, and a man known to many as El Animal Nocturno.
BUT WHO ARE YOU?? What do you dream, what do you hope for? I guess I could listen to your music and find out, but that would kill your mystique, and ruin all of my fun. I prefer instead to create my own story for you, one filled with Guatemalan princesses (is that a thing?) and cowboys (also a thing, maybe?), of close scrapes and daring feats and triumphant victories.
So thank you Ricardo Arjona, you ponderous unicorn of a man. Though you may grow withered and frail in real life, somewhere far far far away from here, to me you will always be the hunched protector of my sleep, the Guatemalan cowboy of my dreams.
Sincerely,
La Miss
P.S. La Miss is Eralia's nickname for me, which you should probably know since you're always hanging around and surely would have heard me called that, but I thought I'd remind you just in case you forgot. I love you. What? Who said that. Gotta go bye!
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