After storage auctions, we often find personal cards, letters, and momentos. In a recent locker in Waco, Texas we found a treasure trove of love letters between Lilian and Ismael. Ismael was here in Texas while Lilian stayed behind in Honduras. All of their passion was made all the more poignant when we found their divorce decree amid the other papers.
on September 29, 2012 at 8:04 am
For those who don’t speak Spanish:
“With you I’ve learned there are new and better emotions
With you I’ve come to know a world full of dreams
I’ve learned the week has more than seven days, (to make my prayers count*)
And to be happy, I have learned with you.
With you I’ve learned to see the light from the other side of the moon
With you I’ve learned I wouldn’t change your presence for any other
I’ve learned a kiss can be sweeter and deeper, that I can leave this world tomorrow
The good things of this world, I’ve lived with you.
With you I’ve learned that I was born the day I met you.”
(*not sure about this bit, the writing is terrible)
Bad adolescent poetry from a songwriter wannabee, methinks.
on September 29, 2012 at 5:03 pm
Lillian, please call me Ishmael. Some years ago — never mind how long
precisely — having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular
to interest me in Honduras, I thought I would stroll about a little
and see every watering hole in town. It is a way I have of
driving down my liver, and regulating the shakes. Whenever
I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a
damp, drizzly October in my soul; whenever I find myself
involuntarily pausing before Costco warehouses, and bringing up
the rear of every traffic jam I’m in; and especially whenever my anxiety
gets such an upper hand of me, that it requires two xanax to prevent me
from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically hunting people down
– then, I account it high time to get to the streets as soon as I can. This is my
substitute for pistol or noose, Lillian. With a existential philosophical
flourish, my old roommate Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the bars.
There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost
all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly
the same feelings towards the ocean with me…
on October 1, 2012 at 9:08 am
Who kept the treasure trove in the storage locker? Were they HIS papers or HERS? Or was it THEIR stuff that then got abandoned?
on October 1, 2012 at 9:08 am
Also … finder’s name? Pretty cute.
on October 2, 2012 at 8:57 am
Those are the lyrics of a very famous bolero from Armando Manzanero, “Contigo Aprendí”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A3QI53ZZkwE
on October 2, 2012 at 1:20 pm
Meh. Famous doesn’t necessarily mean high quality. I refer you to Andy Warhol, Harry Potter, and Amy Winehouse among thousands of others.
on October 3, 2012 at 9:18 am
I’m not talking about quality or lack of it.
I’m just adding the information that those are lyrics from a song, not an original text by Lillian or Ismael 😉