It so happened, that for the first time in more than forty years, I had the chance to go back to South America.
On my flight to Argentina I had a dream. I dreamt of our slow descent into Buenos Aires. My dream was in black and white. The streets hadn't changed since my mother took all those tiny photographs in the 1940s.
|The cars were old-fashioned and people were rushing by in the narrow windy street where we landed. Everything was calm and I felt totally at home. Our real descent was just as amazing. The aircraft came in from the sea and we made our arrival in a spectacular modern city. Again I felt at home I was looking at faces I felt I knew. Time and again I was served oddly familiar dishes and the language I had long forgotten now sounded very comforting to me.|