Journal, June 23, 1977 PM

<Studying has become a vice with her, Sofia says.> She expects she’ll always be around universities, all her life, because she receives little rushes of pleasure from gaining new insights. Any resemblance to me talking to myself was purely coincidental, but did not go unappreciated.

My wife really opened her mind up and let me share some of her most carefully guarded secrets. It happened last evening as we were returning to our place after having a beer at El Ranchito. Walking the nearly deserted streets of Santo Domingo at about 8 PM, she told me I was the first person she’d ever been close enough to to be able to express her barest perceptions of life and society to. She never could openly admit her hunger for knowledge to others, even in her family, for fear of it becoming the subject of subsequent jokes. I know the apprehension well. God, how parallel run our minds. She credits me with being the inspiration for her to strive to show herself a truly good person through her acts and relationships.

That’s a heavy responsibility to shoulder. But her irrepressible, insatiable love for me gives me a confidence I’d never known the like of. She says she’s done nothing for me in return for what I’ve done for her. She doesn’t realize what an intense, comforting warmth she’s brought to my soul.

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