{D} 113: The passageway ends in a door

Buenos Aires, Dead Flights, narrative structure

Been in Buenos Aires for a week now, down here in a corner of the world.

I am an American pretending to know Spanish, which means pretending to know Argentinian Spanish, which is actually Italian Spanish. Every Spanish in every country is different, but this place feels like a linguistic Galapagos. The sea rose, the blue-footed booby was trapped.

The pre…