why haven’t i let it go? this beautiful (yet slightly harrowing) novel that i adore?

She reads The Old Man and the Sea for the umpteenth time, whispering sentences ahead of time, smiling at words she hasn’t heard in a while — like salao, which in the novel’s context describes the worst luck.

The word would mean nothing to anyone who doesn’t speak Spanish.

It translates as salty, which almost doesn’t make sense, although, as the most rudimentary cook knows, too much salt ruins food beyond repair.

Like A Blue Thread