Saint-Exupéry began hating Buenos Aires and Argentines in general. A resquee that the city shared with Paris, with New York and with other cities where he also lived. It is that, as Blas Matamoro points out, Saint Exupéry did not like cities nor, in fact, no part of the world where he should land. He loved, on the other hand, “the landscapes he saw from afar, like the desert, the sea or the mountain range. Intimately, he considered himself an alien to the planet, a stroller of another star …”. It’s true. But it is also true that that corner was dissolving over time and, when he touched him down to this earth, he did it with his eyes wide open, faithful to the slogan that he gave himself: “Look at the cathedral that dwellings.” He held many hands. He was loved, left footprint. And, from him, he reconciled himself with the Argentine experience of him. And he longed for her, even in the most arduous moments of his terrible end.
That experience was brief, but in it everything was brief, starting with his life, which only extended for forty-four years. However, that intense Argentine time summarizes his life. He was, on this earth, pilot, writer, lover. Sometimes it happens that someone’s fate condenses in a single moment, the one in which he knows forever who he is. This happened to Saint-Exupéry at the Argentine moment, although he has lasted just over a year.