A divorced theatre scriptwriter travels to a rural town in search of a quiet place to reorganize his confused life. Here he again meets with a legendary Bata dancer and the reunion rekindles his ambition to write a new play. But his success will depend on how much he is able to understand the mysterious language of the Bata drums and dance
His bitter past has left him with the fear of another relationship and when the charming and compassionate daughter of his aged mentor comes into his life, he finds himself in a desperate battle against his resolve. But his new companion is a healing angel who mends his heartbreak and disabilities and teaches him the way of a master Bata dancer.
The old man finished his lunch and stared out for a while out through the wide window of the paladar. It was just about noon and the restaurant was at this time of the day only half full. . Salsa music played at a reasonable noise level, from a radio with tinny speakers, on a nearby shelf. He drank the little coffee left in the cup and lit a cigar. The cigar was a new habit. How and when he picked up the habit he was not entirely sure. It was sufficient nevertheless that the object fitted the environment. Did he arrive here in Havana the previous day? Two days ago? Three days ago? He could never really remember. He was constantly in transit. Next week he could be in Brasilia, or Caracas, or even back home. He puffed gently on the cigar. It was an expensive cigar, illegal in the country from where he had just recently transited. Again, he puffed on the cigar; the activity seemed to relax him.
The old man finally got up from the rattan chair of the paladar; he left money on the table as payment for the food and leisurely strolled out into the street. He wasn’t sure how much money he put on the table, but it certainly was more than he was required to pay
“Gracias Señor, the proprietor said; but the old man was not listening. He had more urgent missions. His brown suit was dusty, as was his black brogue shoes. He took a glance at his reflection from a wide glass front of a shop. He definitely was remarkably much stronger than his physical appearance suggested. How old was he really? The old man was never one for paying attention to how good he looked. Where was he staying? His hotel was probably somewhere around the corner or hundreds of yards away.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Matteo Serrago
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Talía García
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