26 de July de 1914 - Anaïs Nin deja Barcelona para Nueva York (152 + 438)

The [SS Montserrat] sailed at 4. We were laden down with flowers and candy, also with kisses. Everyone wept because dearest Maman was leaving. I understand why everyone loves her. She is so sweet, so lovable and above all so good, oh, so good. She never says no to us if she can help it. We spent a very bad night, the heat did not let us rest. At 5, we arrived in Valencia. I have written a lot to finish my story, but luckily I have also managed to devote a moment to my diary. The sea is lovely, and I think we will have a very nice trip. The ship is not crowded; we can do whatever we like because Joaquina Sánchez gave Maman a letter of recommendation for the purser, a very pleasant man who seems very nice. I shall stop for now, with a promise to write more tomorrow.

, Linotte: The early diary of Anaïs Nin (1914-1920) (1980).

Comentarios del compilador

Al llegar (1914/08/11) escribe:

We were all dressed and on deck. It was 2 o’clock and one could vaguely see a city, but very far away. The sea was gray and heavy. How different from the beautiful sea of Spain! I was anxious to arrive, but I was sad.

I felt a chill around my heart and I was seeing things all wrong.

Suddenly we were wrapped in a thick fog. A torrential rain began to fall, thunder rumbled, lightning flashes lit the heavy black sky. The people promptly took refuge in the lounge. None of the Spanish passengers had ever seen weather like that, so the frightened women wept,the men prayed in low tones. We were not afraid.

Maman had seen many storms and her calmness reassured us. We were the first to go back up on the wet deck. But the fog continued and we waited.

It was 4 o’clock when the ship began to move again, slowly, as though she approached the great city with fear. Now, leaning on the railing, I couldn’t hear anything. My eyes were fixed on the lights that drew closer, I saw the tall buildings, I heard the whistling of the engine, I saw a great deal of movement. Huge buildings went by in front of me. I hated those buildings in advance because they hid what I love most – flowers, birds, fields, liberty.

Maman came up to me and took me for a walk, whispering in my ear the wonderful things I was going to see. But although I admire New York for its progress, I hate it, I find it superficial. I saw it as an ugly prison. Maman was still walking, but seeing that I wasn’t paying the slightest attention, she didn’t talk to me anymore, but her eyes looked worried. my head felt heavy, my heart seemed full enough to burst, I felt sad and unhappy.

I envy those who never leave their native land. I wanted to cry my eyes out.

Maman went away again and again I leaned on the railing and filled my lungs with the pure evening air. It was growing dark, we were arriving, and I had to come out of my sad reverie. I cast a last glance around me at this last bit of Spain, which seemed to have wanted to accompany me this far, to remind me of my promise that I would return. Inside myself I answered, Oh, yes, I shall return to Spain.

450.000 palabras sin publicidad ni subvención

Noticias por e-mail

Noticias en Twitter una vez al día

Tags y explicaciónes

  • Anaïs Nin (2) Anaïs Nin Culmell, bautizada como Ángela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin Culmell (Neuilly-sur-Seine, Francia, 21 de febrero de 1903-Los Ángeles, 14 de enero de 1977) fue una escritora estadounidense, nacida de padres cubano-españoles.
  • Barcelona (1604)
  • Joaquín Nin (2) Joaquín Nin Castellanos (La Habana, 29 de septiembre de 1879 — La Habana, 24 de octubre de 1949), fue un compositor, pianista y musicólogo cubano español.
  • Nueva York (3) Nueva York (en inglés: «New York City») es la ciudad más poblada del estado homónimo y de los Estados Unidos de América, y la segunda mayor concentración urbana del continente americano, después de la Ciudad de México.
  • Puerto de Barcelona (104)
  • Rosa Culmell (2)
  • Valencia (36)

Parecido

RSS feed

Almanaque creado por El Organillero-Cantante, antiguamente de Barcelona
© 2007-2024 · Etenim mihi multa vetustas scire dedit - Ovidio, Las metamorfosis