“I’m practicing patience”, I tell her.
Setting the groundwork for a longterm relationship.
I thought I could just leave everything.
Every time I have a hard time breathing.
But I’m practicing patience.
I grow sick of you.
Think it won’t work out.
I get tired of your empanadas
your bife de lomos that rarely are as rare as I order them
and taxi drivers who charge me ten pesos extra to get my bag out.
But then there’s Patagonia.
Where the wind always speaks its mind and the willows by the river carries the truth.
We get to know each other.
I’ve been sick of your unpredictable ways.
I’ve cursed you.
I’ve dreamed of beaches and colourful houses.
The things you don’t have.
But be patient.
To the lakes and the mountains.