The Old Notebook

José Chudnovsky

1964

The filthy train lurched along the tracks, jolting my spine through the slats of the wooden seat.

I was thoughtful, my happiness mixed with vague regrets. Happiness? No, a deserter’s sense of hard-won freedom. The countryside and the scant month shared with those close to me unfolded like a fan before my eyes. [ . . . ]

Laziness or remorse. I put…

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