The Edge of Twilight

By J.A Morgan

Traveling Lite Volume 1, is the first in a series of stories from around the world. It takes you through winding roads and moving trains, from the wine country in Italy to the streets of Argentina, it focuses your attention to life’s psychological journey, and the path to easing the burden we bear through introspection and a shift of perspective. With a range of topics from Guyanese cultural migration to gender politics, and dancing Argentine tango, the author takes the everyday occurrences in life and looks at them through a set of filters that are keenly attuned to the minute details that escape the average eye. It is a compilation of travel insights that combine history, humour, and satire to create a delightful blend of narratives that are entertaining, informative, and thought-provoking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.A Morgan
• Release date: Mar 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301650743

J.A Morgan

j.a.morgan is an avid traveller with a passion for art, dance, language, and cultural thought. Beginning at an early age, she has travelled extensively throughout the Caribbean and South America, then later in North America, Europe and Asia. In many of these countries, she has spent many years researching cultural thought and language, while keeping up her love for dancing. She has resided for more than two decades in Seattle, Washington, where she has done extensive volunteer work as a legal advocate for women and children. This she has continued while living and studying in India and other South American countries. After graduating from the University of Washington with a master’s degree in Public Action and a concentration on International Relations, she worked as an ESL instructor at Pacific Lutheran University and Seattle Central Community College. She later moved to Argentina to consummate her love for Argentine tango, while teaching preparation courses for the British and American examinations. She subsequently moved to Beijing, China, where she currently resides and teaches EFL, TOEFL, and IELTS.

Book preview

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The Edge of Twilight

j.a. morgan

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Copyright 2013 by j.a. morgan All Rights Reserved

www.travelinglite.co

Smashwords Edition

Formatting services provided by

Mother Spider Marketing at

http://www.motherspider.com

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Table of Contents

As the World Turns

Children of the Street

Globetrotting

There is Still Gold in Eldorado

Glissandi on the Arabian Sea

Touring the Italian Wine Country

Random Reverie

The Sphere of Cognition

Constructed Realities

Argentine Tango

This is Tango

The Tango Mise-en-scène

The Illusory Connection

Living in Buenos Aires: Know Before You Go

Epilogue

Apothegms

Dedication

Author's Page

Reviews

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As the World Turns

1. Children of the Street – Buenos Aires, Argentina

The sun was smiling, and the wind was agreeable; even the train was prompt, so I was going to arrive at my dance class on time. When the doors slid open, I gingerly hopped aboard the subte, Line B, and settled into my usual corner of the train, by the junction of the carriages. In the open space made possible by the sparseness of the mid-afternoon travellers, three scrawny, dishevelled children had taken centre stage.

They were all huddled around a worn, transparent, plastic bag of pastries. They seemed to be travelling unaccompanied. The oldest looked around twelve, and to the youngest I gave the benefit of two years. The blue velvet cushion of the passenger seat served as their dining table, and they were setting pieces of half-eaten pastries onto the seat, as they sampled another from inside the bag. The oldest was distractedly monitoring the bag, as she was a bit more vigilant to the movements of the other two girls, who I presumed to be her sisters.

The middle child was nibbling lazily on a lack-lustre, unadorned pastry, and as she toyed disinterestedly with the morsel, she alternated between draping herself on the seat, and using it as a dining table, sprawling herself across the crumbs that she was creating. Her antics, lithe and unreserved, were somewhat compelling, and as I watched in mild fascination at the three blossoming street thespians who dominated the interest of most of the passengers on board, for some odd reason this particular one, the middle child, commanded my attention. Perhaps like a spectator at a freak show, I was drawn to her uncomplimentary features, or maybe it was her unrehearsed, yet graceful and almost purposeful movements that engaged me. Despite other activities in the train, and the constant exchange of passengers at every station, my attention never strayed.

Her short, wiry, unwashed hair collapsed around an uneducated, inquisitive face that was speckled with spots of dirt blended with some long-forgotten beverage. Thin, bird-like hands brought worthless tit-bits of food to her mouth at regular intervals of what appeared to be boredom. Her teeth were already showing the effects of the nutrient deficient diet. As she negotiated the edges of the bench-like seat, she arched, contorted, and articulated her nimble body to remain always in a position of favour. I pictured her as a future contortionist, and began forming mental images of the three girls in a circus act.

At this moment, the youngest of the three girls, already satiated, or perhaps disgusted, interrupted her sister’s artistic display by walking over to the seat and commanding a place to lay a piece of the unfinished remains of what looked like a fruit tart. Relieving her hands of this encumbrance, she turned and marched off, purposefully. With a tiny outstretched hand, she moved deftly from one passenger to another, her shoeless feet stepping assuredly between and around the out-stretched legs of the passengers. She paused only when a random movement suggested that there could be a reward coming. Almost in perfect synchronicity, my eyes, along with all others on board, were removed from the contortionist to follow the latest act, the mendicant nymph.

She was already aware of, and keenly respondent to the stench of denial; she never paused too long before any one customer. Scarcely making eye contact, she moved non-committantly, with the skill and precision of a pick-pocket navigating the crowd, deftly and emotionlessly assessing each victim, somehow knowing from which angle the next bit of income would appear. Meanwhile, back at the corner seat, the oldest sister guarded the bag and marked the return point, while the middle child continued the table-top exhibition.

In my worldly experience, it is typical on subway trains to be entertained by the