so, today Xica da Silva has spent the morning telling me over and over that I am her love, and then that I'm not; then that I AM, then that I'm NOT. It's like this: "tú no eres mi amor. Sí, tu eres mi amor. [pause] Tú no eres mi amor. Tú eres mi amor." I'm not sure if Xica is herself ambivalent about whether i'm her love, or if she's playing games with me.
Last I heard, I was her amor. But now she has once again accosted me with folded arms and said that I am not her amor at this moment, that I'll have to get to the back of the line before I can approach the bench. I feel like she's at the juncture of psychoanalysis and Panamanian bureaucracy - her definitive statements are like passport-stamps from immigration services, whimsically retracted according to the dictator's caprice. The weirdest part is that she talks to inanimate objects and calls them her amor, and she keeps pretending to call her true amor on the phone and making me talk to him/her. Huh. I just want to write my dissertation here.
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