Letter 5
Carmen Ortega to Elías Ruiz
16th August 2002 (from Pueblo)
Dearest Elías
It's not that bad here. Yesterday was really nice. I went to the lake and it was very busy, but I managed to find a quiet spot away from the cabins and laid down by the water with a romántica. After a few pages I fell asleep and when I woke up the sun was already on its way behind the hills. I'd had a dream I was walking through a forest with no clear end. I was alone but I didn't mind because I knew that I'd find the edge soon, because there's no such thing as an endless forest. It sounds pretty average but I wish I could describe how nice I felt. I wish I had a knack for writing like you do.
It was almost dark by the time I got home. I changed and walked back out onto the village square, and could hear music coming from I didn't know where. I followed the sound to the path leading up to the farm and saw Don Jose sitting on his doorstep with a guitar. He was playing to a group of children, but some adults had started gathering so I joined them and listened for a while. Even when the sun had gone it was so hot I felt dizzy so I sat down on the path. Ana came down after work and we chatted for a while with the people there. Jose played for so long, I could see sweat dripping from his face. But I think he was so flattered by the crowd he didn't want to stop. Jose's wife Maria brought out some red wine and cola and we made some calimochos. It was like a little concert.
Today I was back to work at dawn. I never feel tired in the summer, though. I think I'm solar powered. Unlike you, lazy bones.
With all my affection,
Carmen.