Fuente
Uncle Eduardo
After the ceremony in the cemetery, I thought of Uncle Eduardo's sailboat, I began to walk towards the beach, I saw the dry leaves carried by the wind at the same time that spirit of renewal that the coming season brought, spring began.
In South America, spring is very different from everything, depending on where you are, for example in the south you can still find some snow and very cold temperatures, while in the north you hardly notice the changes of season, in my case was to the north, which made them imperceptible, even the fruit trees are confused and begin to bloom, at the same time that others already have their load of fruits, in this case the mangoes, all the way to the beach, almost all the trees were mangoes, and the different stages in which they were found could be appreciated, from some in flower to others that were already painting the maturity of their fruits.
I walked for about an hour until I reached the sea, a feeling of pain and anger at the memories of the uncle that we had just buried, how many mistreatments, how many screams, how many confinements in the basement, I really don't know how much I came to hate him, he was a kind old curmudgeon, since Aunt Angela died in that domestic accident.
I sat on the edge of the dock, in the distance an anchored sailboat could be seen, on the shore, the water had that deep blue of the bottom and I put my feet in it, suddenly all those childhood memories came to my mind, the exits to the sea on that sailboat, with my parents and I remembered that the uncle was always there, it was he who always spoiled us, the one who taught us to fish, the one who carried us on his shoulders and always invented something, to play, to make us happy.
Then I fell into deeper memories, when my father died and he took care of us all, he told us that life was like this, beginning and end, light and dark, and that our existence was ephemeral in proportion to nature, I remembered that always He told us that between these two forces, the light should always triumph, that this was the force that should move the world.
I understood, Uncle Eduardo was like that, cheerful, always ready for a way out, to escape, to have fun, but Aunt Angela's blow immersed him in that bitterness that had eclipsed all those beautiful memories, and that at this moment They arose from my mind, as if inciting me to get back on track, while I looked at the anchored sailboat, in the distance, on the surface of the water, then one after another, some tears emerged from my eyes that were lost in that majestic sea...
In exercise number one observed how Hemingway describes in sttacato, with direct and simple sentences but in detail the setting of the story.
On the other hand, in Donna Tartt's scenario, the description, although in bursts, stops at some details, and plays a little more with the use of language.
Both examples create the feeling that something is going to happen imminently.
For exercise number two, I was inspired by a painting that I have in my writing room, (now the living room is called like that), in which a sailboat can be seen in the distance, and I must confess that I still do not dare to call writing or qualify my work as a literary, so I ask for excuses.
