EL FUTURO PRÓXIMO Patagonia, March 2024 “But what is memory if not the language of feeling, a dictionary of faces and days and smells which repeat themselves like the verbs and adjectives in a speech, sneaking in behind the thing itself, into the pure present, making us sad or teaching us vicariously...” Julio Cortázar, Hopscotch I only caught glimpses of the immense landscape of Patagonia, I only got to experience fragments of the lives of the gauchos who proudly inhabit it. Yet, the feeling of freedom, integrity and belonging that I saw in the eyes of the kids I met there stayed with me, together with the howling of the wind, the rustling grass, the bleached bones, the milonga songs played by the fireplace. These people have a profound respect for the land, and the seasons. They carry on with their work, without too many words, in a practical, essential, raw way. Gonzalo is six, and yet has no doubts. He will be a gaucho, he loves horses, and running in the endless fields. Ailen chops wood, her long hair drawing maps in the sky. Ceferino and Adan tend to the animals, boil water for the mate, sing about love touching the guitar softly. The nights are long and dark, there are many stars, away from the distractions of the world. The concept of time and space is blurred, in Patagonia, The estancias are among the few landmarks in this borderless territory, where everything changes, the light, the colours, the shadows. They are micro-worlds where the presence of man is embedded in a harsh nature that demands respect and gifts horizons that keep moving a step ahead, in a realm of possibility and wonder. Patagonia doesn’t just feel like a physical place, rather a state of mind.