Culled from a Journal: Summer in Salvador

A friend lived in El Salvador for several weeks one summer. Recently, she went to Art Hill and reread through the journal she kept those months,  culled the following lines, and told me I could share them if I want…


“I am here because I want to learn how to not belong to myself”

“I fear unsatisfactory answers”


“Today was a lot harder than I thought”

“Was my ego really so big that I thought I would be good at this?”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Salvadorans”


“The people at the gate were screaming for water and God.”


“Yo tengo fe que todo cambiara”

“Will I ever pass this way again?”


“How did I get on this high horse?”


“Remembering even assholes can be good people”


“Am I supposed to love my washer and dryer more because Salvadorans don’t have them??”


Hector said: “Thank you for sharing your heart. Thanks for walking. When you stand at the bottom of the volcano, everything looks different. Don’t forget to stand at the bottom, with the people, and keep us in your heart. Don’t forget to share. Share everything you have.”


“Not at peace. There is no peace for me.”

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