Big city living in Buenos Aires is a strange brew of high-energy excitement, chaos and commerce. Nearly a quarter of Argentina’s 40 million residents live and dwell here. The city is sprawling, dirty and beautiful. Immaculate apartment lofts coexist alongside open garbage piles. It’s a metro of dichotomies. One day I am dining with friends of ex-presidents and the next am brought to tears by the humble love of the cleaning lady. I am enraged and heartbroken all at once, often at the extremes of human emotion amidst the poverty, excess and hardship that this city’s streets throw at me each day. I love and hate it here. It is a mirror that forces me to face the demons of my imperfection. Can I be compassionate, patient, open and strong? Will this city, with its anger and apathy, engulf me or will I rise above?
And then like a flash, a moment of pure innocence catches my breath. I am reminded of what is good and true.
Of God.
A little girl squeals with joy playing with her doll on a rooftop cement playground just after a rainstorm.
