Barranco is the bohemian district in the middle of lima, it looks pretty nice at night and there are things like illuminated statues holding water basins standing in the middle of fountains like this one. Behind this fellow is a series of bars in which you can go and order drinks and meet new and interesting people that you never knew existed.
I remember that one time I was hanging with Florian in this bar and there was this weird guy sitting in one of the balconies in one of the bars…well, he was just sitting there alone writing in his little notebook, and then he got up and went to the bathroom and left his notebook there. So Florian went over and grabbed it and we started reading it like a bunch of jerks and the one line that stood out was “…she is the night…” which is a phrase that I supposed everyone who’s ever tried to write anything has at one point or another put down and thought, “hell, that might work” before they sobered up and looked at it again and realized that it was a piece of garbage.
So we were laughing and drinking and then the guy came back (we’d put his notebook back by then) and he spontaneously came over and started hanging out with us and he was a cool enough guy, so hopefully he had a fun time in Lima even though we’d just had a fun time at his expense.
You ever get the sense that at some point sooner or later you’re going to be held accountable for every little crappy thing like that you’ve ever done? I hope not because I just don’t think I have enough creativity to justify everything.
At least he wasn’t one of those starbucks jerk-offs who sit there with their self-absorbed sense of superiority writing some crappy novel on a neon green apple laptop and not wanting to tell anyone about it because, “nobody will understand it.” At least this guy had the common decency to write his crappy novel in a notebook with real paper and a real ink pen.
You know, come to think of it, I do like that guy. I hope he comes back to Lima.