BetancuriaThe calima lasted another three days. I remained indoors for the duration, reading the Agatha Christie in Spanish translation that had been left on the single shelf, and when I tired of that I listened to music through my headphones. I steered clear of the Cocteau Twins, choosing Fela Kuti and Angelique Kidgo, upbeat music with a happy, exhilarating vibe, from artists with roots not too far from the Canary Islands. A boyfriend – Simon, I think it was – had put me onto them one time.
When the Kidgo album came to an end, I sent my father and aunt each a short email informing them the building works had begun. Neither replied, at least not soon enough. I found myself checking my inbox intermittently, craving human interaction, even at an electronic distance. Alone in my tiny apartm
