Kubes LA BUFADORA Crystal sprinkles blew across my body and the cold wind stabbed the drops through. They say a baby whale is stuck there, between the rocks, and as she grows she blows her soul for tourists and students with hangovers. I thought of the rain back home and how I love to walk under it, even when it makes me ill. I realized that under the rain I feel stuck between rocks that no tourists or students or lovers ever see. The day was cold and I felt a hunger, a cold nauseating hunger that still I know will not go away. I turned from the rocks and walked, I was dry but the sprinkles continued to follow me. In the restaurant the child waiter entertained me with his energetic, untamed wit. For five dollars he offered a crystal whale ornament. "Para su amante," he said. I noticed the white cheese from my chilles rellenos oozing, embedded within the red sauce on my plate. The colors reminded me of something that I had left behind. Something I did not want to taste. "No es amor," I said as I waved the confused child away. I turned to the window and glared to the ocean. I thought of a baby whale stuck there, between the rocks, calling my name calling my name.