Love Post - The Last Trip

Nobody understands my bad english. People are courteous, polite. Some never heard of argentina. Here it rains every day. How is my ralito? The crew ask after you both. Tell everyone i'm well. City is bigger than i thought. Badly damaged. By the war. He often dreams of home, its casuarinas ablaze. One evening, he meets a sailor in the stark hotel. Tan skin under flannels. They laugh to albartinas songs,. unch stout, wrap hands on the waxed bench. Later they sleep together. El capitans, pencil moustache, a little brush, mouths alike. And when the captain