Rum And Poetry: In The Company Of Two Colombian Maestros

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BEACON

A mask of gray stubble covered his face. Slicked-back hair. Glasses. He sat in a chair next to a bench filled with books and scraps of leather. The man wore a green sweater and a worn navy coat. It was hard to tell if he was a particularly dignified man or not. The thing is, he was coarse around the edges. If there was dignity, it was hidden, quiet. He propped himself up with a cane in one hand while he poured the bottle of Scotch whisky with the other. It went into my glass.

Someone introduced him to me as Maestro.

Colombia has a strong tradition of honorific titles. Profesor. Doctor. Don. Señor. They are titles that grant respect. Awhile back, I had a surprise encounter and met two men who invited me to celebrate with them and drink their rum. They went by a different title: Maestro. Continue reading on Beacon…

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