Magical Realism, Writing, Fiction, Politics, Haiku, Books

martes, septiembre 26, 2006

The Sky At Night

Baracoa, Cuba

Last night before bed I was watching the sky. I saw a meteor. Actually, two. The first was a sudden, bright streak and made me gasp. The second was only faint, like a whisper.

In my dreams last night I travelled again to Baracoa, on the eastern coast of Cuba. Or maybe it was Macondo. I sat on the street playing dominoes and drinking a sip or two of rum and making jokes in Spanglish. The electricity went out as frequently it does. Some people went to find candles. Others like me just sat and stared up at the sky, the Milky Way, the zillion shining stars, the end of the universe. The game stopped; you couldn't see the dot stars on the dominoes. You could only see the sky, and hear the sound of an occasional car.

If people looked up at the stars more often, I thought, how could they fight with each other? Wouldn't they see all of Indra's web and how they were connected to it? Shouldn't the cities of the world occasionally turn off all their lights, so that their inhabitants could see the night sky from the street?

When the electricity returned, interrupting my thoughts, some people clapped. And the radios and TVs cam back on. But I was sad that I had not seen any meteors, and the stars seemed even farther away.