…of ours since we were in Mexico. Cristi ought to remember their son, who used to go to Rosa Rouaix’s house. We ate with them and afterwards we went to Harlem, which is the Black neighborhood in New York.
We went to watch them dance. It’s beautiful, and there are thousands of beautiful mulatto girls. Nobody in the world dances like they do. We were very happy, but Diego woke up very tired this morning. I’m going to have to take him to see the doctor. He’s very nervous and his eyes and feet are swelling up. I think it might be a kidney problem, but whatever it is, I don’t want him to continue this way without getting treatment.
It’s unbearably hot in New York. You’d think we were in Veracruz. One is constantly sweating, day and night, and since the houses and apartments have very little fresh air, it’s dreadful. One must also have the electric lights on all day because buildings don’t have access to daylight. It’s a pain to live in a city like this because…