This is me preparing for finals.
I’ve just turned 22, but I keep thinking I was born in the wrong decade. At least in terms of music.
This is Carlos Castañeda, a 39-year old coffee-grower from Andes, Antioquia. He was chosen among hundreds of candidates to succeed Carlos Sánchez in the role of Juan Valdez.
I thought I wouldn’t like him since I was so used to the image of Sánchez, but Castañeda seems humble, friendly, and his physical features are very typical of the coffee-growing region. He looks like the kind of farmer who would gently invite you to a cup of coffee when finding you tired on the road around his property.
More information, here.
Once again, the words have hidden behind my lips. Nevertheless, I saw them last Sunday fluttering around the house, melting around the inarizushi and chasing the doggie in the living room. Words, colorful and clumsy, filled up the house that evening and invaded the streets of suburban Yokohama.
Now I’m back in my lonely room, silent, monochrome. I suppose I won’t see them again until sometime far, far away from today.