Bringing "The Existence of Pity" to Life, Part 2

Here's an excerpt from "The Existence of Pity" and some pictures of the seminary in Cali.

"The Baptist college campus was the only place where I felt truly safe in Cali.

Even in my house, with Brandy barking at anyone who passed by, I felt a vague sense of unease, that I wasn't completely protected. But the seminary was surrounded by a high brick and metal fence, and a gun-wielding guard was on duty at all times. I could roam the wide open space in peace, missing Aunt Rosie and thinking about Alejandro.

I wandered around the campus the day Aunt Rosie left, ending up in the library on the second floor of the main building. Only a few students were sitting at the tables between the bookshelves, and I walked out to the balcony, where bougainvillea was taking over. I liked to study the scale model of old Jerusalem on display in a glass case, with its tiny people and elaborate temple.

After a glance at the model, I looked around to make sure no one was watching me. I stole inside the library again and searched among the concordances, books on ancient languages, and inspirational stories, until I found a book about the saints. Flipping through its pages, I came across the perfect saint for my problems. I wrote his name on a piece of paper and headed back home."  

Bringing "The Existence of Pity" to Life

The setting of my novel, The Existence of Pity, comes from my youth. I grew up as a missionary kid in Colombia, South America, but I certainly didn't experience the conflict Josie faced. This is a picture of our house as it looks now. The current owner has made it more beautiful, but I miss the towering bougainvillea around the front door.

Cali's Baptist Seminary

Here is just one of many photo of the Baptist Seminary across the street. Although much of the land has been sold, the open fields and grand buildings make the place as impressive as ever. 
 
 What follows is an excerpt from my book about the Plaza de Caycedo:

Plaza de Caycedo

Cali's downtown streets swarmed with people as we headed toward the park to sit on thick concrete benches under towering palm trees. Some Colombians were dressed for work, moving quickly past us, while others relaxed with their friends in jeans and T-shirts.
"That looks fun," I said, pointing to a group kicking a soccer ball around.
"Yeah." Aunt Rosie leaned back and closer her eyes. "Do you realize, Josie, we could be anywhere in the whole world?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know; it just seems like people are the same wherever you go. Every city has a park for people to hang out in, and it usually has a statue of an important person in the middle." She opened her eyes and pointed to the bronze image of a man clutching a flag. "Who is that, anyway?"
"I'll go find out." I jumped up to read the plaque. Returning, I told her the statue was of a man who helped Cali gain its freedom from Spain. The park had been a public market in the 1600s.
As cathedral bells rang out, I looked around the old park with new eyes, wondering how much -- or how little -- had changed in three centuries. When the bells finally stopped chiming, I pulled out my camera to take pictures.
"I'm glad you like your new camera," Aunt Rosie said.
"Maybe I'll become a photographer for National Geographic one day." I took a picture of the statue with palm trees behind it, then one of the soccer ball flying in the air. "I'll travel the world, visiting all those parks."