I was talking to a friend who had decided to implement a marketing campaign to expand her client base. So, she asked my advice on how to put together a website. I told her that, given it had been so long ago, I couldn’t recall how I’ d done it; that she should look at it and then ask me any questions she had.
The conversation prompted me to look at my “offspring.” The morning after, I picked up my computer, went on Google, and typed the URL of my old blog, Word Creations / Crear con palabras. That blog used to contain my translations of Latin American poetry into English, and bilingual versions of novelists and poets/translators’ thoughts on literature and on writing and translating poetry respectively. It was a journey toward the past – the past when I was able to walk and translate without being tired or having seizures.
It was a pleasant and, at the same time, nostalgic journey. I closed the computer right away, but the yearning stayed with me; what beautiful things I had been able to create and pursue! I couldn’t recover the work I used to do with that blog – I had neither the password nor the will, nor the strength to look up poetry worth translating or useful, appealing thoughts about writing and translating. I was no longer on Facebook. I no longer had the interaction with Argentine and worldwide poets or with poets and translators.
This was something else with which to come to terms. Maybe I would eventually choose to go back; maybe I wouldn’t be able to choose, and have to resurrect as a different “me.” So far, I’m still choosing to look ahead and avoid turning backward. What if I turned into salt?
The conversation prompted me to look at my “offspring.” The morning after, I picked up my computer, went on Google, and typed the URL of my old blog, Word Creations / Crear con palabras. That blog used to contain my translations of Latin American poetry into English, and bilingual versions of novelists and poets/translators’ thoughts on literature and on writing and translating poetry respectively. It was a journey toward the past – the past when I was able to walk and translate without being tired or having seizures.
It was a pleasant and, at the same time, nostalgic journey. I closed the computer right away, but the yearning stayed with me; what beautiful things I had been able to create and pursue! I couldn’t recover the work I used to do with that blog – I had neither the password nor the will, nor the strength to look up poetry worth translating or useful, appealing thoughts about writing and translating. I was no longer on Facebook. I no longer had the interaction with Argentine and worldwide poets or with poets and translators.
This was something else with which to come to terms. Maybe I would eventually choose to go back; maybe I wouldn’t be able to choose, and have to resurrect as a different “me.” So far, I’m still choosing to look ahead and avoid turning backward. What if I turned into salt?
Yesterday I was talking to a friend who had decided to implement a marketing campaign to expand her client base. So, she asked my advice on how to put together a website. I told her that, given it had been so long ago, I couldn’t recall how I’ d done it; that she should look at it and then ask me any questions she had.
The conversation prompted me to look at my “offspring.” The morning after, I picked up my computer, went on Google, and typed the URL of my old blog, Word Creations / Crear con palabras. That blog used to contain my translations of Latin American poetry into English, and bilingual versions of novelists and poets/translators’ thoughts on literature and on writing and translating poetry respectively. It was a journey toward the past – the past when I was able to walk and translate without being tired or having seizures.
It was a pleasant and, at the same time, nostalgic journey. I closed the computer right away, but the yearning stayed with me; what beautiful things I had been able to create and pursue! I couldn’t recover the work I used to do with that blog – I had neither the password nor the will, nor the strength to look up poetry worth translating or useful, appealing thoughts about writing and translating. I was no longer on Facebook. I no longer had the interaction with Argentine and worldwide poets or with poets and translators.
This was something else with which to come to terms. Maybe I would eventually choose to go back; maybe I wouldn’t be able to choose, and have to resurrect as a different “me.” So far, I’m still choosing to look ahead and avoid turning backward. What if I turned into salt?
The conversation prompted me to look at my “offspring.” The morning after, I picked up my computer, went on Google, and typed the URL of my old blog, Word Creations / Crear con palabras. That blog used to contain my translations of Latin American poetry into English, and bilingual versions of novelists and poets/translators’ thoughts on literature and on writing and translating poetry respectively. It was a journey toward the past – the past when I was able to walk and translate without being tired or having seizures.
It was a pleasant and, at the same time, nostalgic journey. I closed the computer right away, but the yearning stayed with me; what beautiful things I had been able to create and pursue! I couldn’t recover the work I used to do with that blog – I had neither the password nor the will, nor the strength to look up poetry worth translating or useful, appealing thoughts about writing and translating. I was no longer on Facebook. I no longer had the interaction with Argentine and worldwide poets or with poets and translators.
This was something else with which to come to terms. Maybe I would eventually choose to go back; maybe I wouldn’t be able to choose, and have to resurrect as a different “me.” So far, I’m still choosing to look ahead and avoid turning backward. What if I turned into salt?
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