Last night my “amante” said: “Sometimes I forget that we are here with a purpose.” I have to admit that I sometimes tend to forget that we are here with a purpose as well.
This was our last day with Fausto, our last day in the capital of this beautiful country.
Fausto explained today that he buys diapers and powder milk for his youngest grandson.
Later we went to “Mercado 4” and we saw a woman, her head covered in blood, and a dead dog.
But the purpose, the purpose is the Chaco and the Mennonites who live there.
Fausto said: “It’s going to be hot in the Chaco. And you don’t have air conditioning.” Furthermore suddenly Fausto referred to himself as Gustavo.
I wonder what happened with the real Fausto.
Or maybe Fausto is just a nickname.
Fausto/Gustavo told a joke: “Do you know why Hitler killed the Jews? Because he didn’t know the Argentinians.”