Silence, distortion affecting the senses.
Trash on the corners. Artificial light,
impossible constellations.
Things shine in a special way. Viscous camo; alien to the species.
Dawn breaks: the things of the new day.
The city's trying to wake up.
Breathed air; used; to throw. Sounds of always behind
the usual broked window.
One more unnatural sunrise out of context at this latitude.
I play to change the name of things:
rain is cry; night is oblivion; pain love...
Things change color, shape and all.
Motion figures; someone drags something; someone pushes something.
A baby cries.
I inhale, exhale (...)
all the time in a cyclical boredom that helps to keep some order.
I cover my eyes and my mouth. I try to get out of this loop,
leave me and..., to look myself in the mirror
and ask myself if that face is mine.
Cell phones ringing. Faces illuminated by the screens
in apparent illusion.
Amid the chaos I'm trying to remember your geography...
Silence is better; rain is better...
I wish it would always rain.
I'm looing for the possibility that it's all related,
that everything make sense.
Meanwhile..., I dream...
I make a baroque draft, full and symmetric:
something almost perfect.
Unreal memory because this memory remain on me. Because is memory or memory of something that one day will
disappear without trace.
Memory that one day will be someone else's memory.
I'm here, there and everywhere.
I feel the present, the future and the past.
I'm you, she and he..., but actually..., I'm not anybody.
From the void, I think living beings in an approximate manner.
I see broken mirrors with a sideways glance to see if I'm still there.
Behind the fog: on the certainty, a dog is staring at me.
A delicious beast...,
about to hurt...
inèrcies 2020
Microstructures by a confined present. Words and image: sin título. Polaroid 110b modified with Fujifilm wide