Leslie Cesia Isabel Boc Camey, Grade 11
UWC Costa Rica
La Terminal has always been a crazy place for me. It is far from being the largest market in Guatemala, but it’s one of the important ones, at least in the city. Every time I went there, I was afraid of being hit by a man with his cart or getting lost among the hundreds of people who come every day to buy their home supplements. Besides, all the noise and jostling did not make the place more attractive to me, so I did not go there unless it was strictly necessary. Nevertheless, life has such an unpredictable and strange way to act because I worked there for three months during 2017.
Day by day, I had to wake up at 4 am and prepare myself for 12 long hours of work. Although it was hard and tiresome at the beginning, at the end of two weeks, I was already accustomed to the schedule, the carts, the jostling, the noise, and, with a bit more time, I got my way with people too. As part of my job, I had to leave my shyness away and learn to start quick conversations with clients, so they didn’t get desperate when their order took more time than usual. That is exactly how, in the middle of the crowd and surrounded by cheese and milk, I met one of the most impressive authors I have ever known.
I remember when he approached me. At first glance, he seemed like any other person in the market. Still, when he opened his mouth and started to talk about Gabriel García Márquez, I knew I had something special in front of me. As a lover of the prose and verse, I found it incredibly easy to have a conversation with him. I was fascinated with his extensive knowledge of Latin American literature. He knew hundreds of book quotes, poems, and biographies by heart, which I heard with much pleasure! And with gestures, mimics, and a perfect tone of voice, he told me not only stories written by others, but also stories written by himself. He had the very essence of the Latino writer that I could recognize in any part and a delicacy in every sentence that made me feel like I could listen to him for hours. Sadly, our encounter did not last more than ten minutes. I saw him leave, with a feeling of abandonment, while I returned to my work’s monotony. I never saw him again.
The reader might excuse me for not being able to share any of the stories I heard that day, nor giving the name of the author to let you find them by yourself since those stories were never published and that man remains unknown today. Unfortunately, his talent to touch people through the word is being wasted in selling ice creams in the market. Three years later, his name and face have been removed from my memory, but I still keep his tales and ways with me.
I do not have any proof to verify my story, but I assure you, dear reader, that man exists. As this writer, I had the honor to meet, there are many others. People we do not know but dedicated their life to write about us and, maybe, for us. Therefore, let me offer an apology in the name of all the authors that, with the pen and heart in hand, were deprived by life from sharing their stories, thus depriving us of reading them. For them, I ask a little compassion, that sometime in the future, they may see the light.
Day by day, I had to wake up at 4 am and prepare myself for 12 long hours of work. Although it was hard and tiresome at the beginning, at the end of two weeks, I was already accustomed to the schedule, the carts, the jostling, the noise, and, with a bit more time, I got my way with people too. As part of my job, I had to leave my shyness away and learn to start quick conversations with clients, so they didn’t get desperate when their order took more time than usual. That is exactly how, in the middle of the crowd and surrounded by cheese and milk, I met one of the most impressive authors I have ever known.
I remember when he approached me. At first glance, he seemed like any other person in the market. Still, when he opened his mouth and started to talk about Gabriel García Márquez, I knew I had something special in front of me. As a lover of the prose and verse, I found it incredibly easy to have a conversation with him. I was fascinated with his extensive knowledge of Latin American literature. He knew hundreds of book quotes, poems, and biographies by heart, which I heard with much pleasure! And with gestures, mimics, and a perfect tone of voice, he told me not only stories written by others, but also stories written by himself. He had the very essence of the Latino writer that I could recognize in any part and a delicacy in every sentence that made me feel like I could listen to him for hours. Sadly, our encounter did not last more than ten minutes. I saw him leave, with a feeling of abandonment, while I returned to my work’s monotony. I never saw him again.
The reader might excuse me for not being able to share any of the stories I heard that day, nor giving the name of the author to let you find them by yourself since those stories were never published and that man remains unknown today. Unfortunately, his talent to touch people through the word is being wasted in selling ice creams in the market. Three years later, his name and face have been removed from my memory, but I still keep his tales and ways with me.
I do not have any proof to verify my story, but I assure you, dear reader, that man exists. As this writer, I had the honor to meet, there are many others. People we do not know but dedicated their life to write about us and, maybe, for us. Therefore, let me offer an apology in the name of all the authors that, with the pen and heart in hand, were deprived by life from sharing their stories, thus depriving us of reading them. For them, I ask a little compassion, that sometime in the future, they may see the light.
Image Citation: https://www.ancient-origins.net/images/writers-list.jpg
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