A fellow, who reminded me somewhat of both Salvador Ibarra and Daruish (an Iranian whom I had met in Luxembourg) and I were apparently enrolled in a college and were working together on a couple research projects. The topic of one project was a man named "Guirldo" who had been a revolutionary leader in a Central American country before being killed. I had never heard of the man until being given the project.
Neither the other fellow nor I was familiar with the school, although I did know where a research room was which contained quite a few books. We went to the room and I began looking over the books on the shelf and was suddenly surprised to find one entitled simply "Guirldo." I pulled the book from the shelf and showed it to the other fellow. The book was written in Spanish. I tried to read some of it, but I seemed to be distracted and I was having difficulty following it.
The other fellow found another book on a different subject and together we sat down at a long table (he on one side and I on the other) and began reading. I let him read my book for a while because I knew he was very interested in the subject. Finally I told him I was going to leave for a while and I would be back. I took the book with me and walked outside.
There I found myself on a seashore beach crowded with people, especially young women. I thought I might try to meet one. I had met women before on beaches and I knew doing so was fairly easy, but still I felt intimidated about simply approaching strange women. It occurred to me that when I had met women before, I had been drinking something alcoholic and alcohol tended to make me much less inhibited. When I drank alcohol successfully approaching women was much easier for me. That also made me wonder about the frivolous nature of most women out on the beach, that they would let themselves be picked up like that by someone who had been drinking alcohol.
I definitely didn't want to drink alcohol now. So what would I say? Maybe I could just make up a story. I could walk up to a woman and politely ask her if she would be so kind as to talk to me for five minutes because I had made a bet with a friend who was watching us that I could talk with her for five minutes. The idea didn't seem like a very good one, but it was about the best one I had.
Instead I just sat down in the sand by a large log. A copper penny fell from my pocket and I buried it in the sand. I opened the book on Guirldo and began reading. I skipped the first few pages. What appeared to be a map of France was on one page. Apparently Guirldo had also been involved in some revolutionary activities there. There was also a photograph of a room where a table was turned over. I had the impression it was the room in which Guirldo had finally been killed.
I began reading the Spanish text (which was very clear) and the words registered well in my mind. I found it to be quite well-written and I soon became absorbed in the fascinating story of Guirldo's life. The book described the revolution in which Guirldo had been involved as "short-lived and ill-fated." It also mentioned the official certificate describing the conditions of Guirldo's death had been typed out in Italian.
After having read several pages, I decided it was time to return to my friend and I went back to where I had left him. I was surprised to see he had probably 20-30 books pilled up on the table. He told me he had found another section of the library where we could get books and he offered to show it to me. I had known the other section existed, but I had been uncertain how to use it. It involved asking someone to get the books. Apparently my friend had had no problem.
I asked him when our projects were due. He said they would be due in April. Since it was only February I saw no rush and I thought of returning to the beach.
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