In This Part Of The Story I

Today Is Today, And Yesterday Is Gone. There Is No Doubt.

Without Doubt I Praise The Wild Excellence.

I Have Forgotten Your Love, Yet I Seem To Glimpse You In Every Window.

And What Has Become Of It, Where Is That Onetime Love? Now It Is The Grave Of A Bird, A Drop Of Black Quartz, A Chunk Of Wood Eroded By The Rain.

Latin America Is Very Fond Of The Word "hope." We Like To Be Called The "continent Of Hope." Candidates For Deputy, Senator, President, Call Themselves "candidates Of Hope." This Hope Is Really Something Like A Promise Of Heaven, An Iou Whose Payment Is Always Being Put Off. It Is Put Off Until The Next Legislative Campaign, Until Next Year, Until The Next Century.