No, the boy is reading a book.
How many green apples are there?
There are seven green apples.
What are you eating?
I am eating an egg.
The women are swimming.
This is my brother's sandwich.
I could totally have that conversation in Spanish right now. Soon I will be the toast of BA's legendary nightlife: "Is that? . . . . It is! The sophisticated Canadian playboy who knows how many green apples there are! I'm going to see if he'll let me buy him a drink, and invite him to my yacht christening!" Before I left Canada, I had fantasies of reading Pablo Neruda or Jorge Luis Borges in Spanish. I have since lowered my expectations.
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