I didn't know how to start this. I guess the best way is to do it in the most honest way.
They were no longer good days, everything began to fall, as leaves fall in autumn, or even more, as angels fall when the sky lights up, when it rains and there is no way to hide from the cold drops that fall from hundreds of meters above, looking for a body or a tree, or a pile of earth or any object that cushions their direct fall against the sinister fate of the icy asphalt of the city. There is nothing to celebrate.
Everything was like this, devastated, or at least that's how I felt. There was nothing to celebrate, rain in ancient cultures tells of the beginning of life, in my case, the only image it evokes is desolation and loneliness. There is nothing to celebrate anymore.
We were both wrapped in the simplicity of the all-encompassing night, thirty minutes away, same city, same sky, another world. There were no more lounge chairs, no more shared dinners, no more photos or stickers. There was silence, and that silence was like the night and it covered everything, and everything was dark, and everything that got into our heads mixed with your pills and my bottle of wine and my cigarettes, and the silence laughed and encompassed everything. I was just waiting for a message, it was all I had been waiting for, how did we come to this? Surely it was my fault, or I don't know, I don't know anything anymore, lately the rain covers everything and the night and the all-encompassing silence covers me too and I can't think clearly.
Then a high C and then the reminiscence of all that I had lost. We are just an accumulation of all that we have already lived, and if the past has fucked you, or if you have fucked the past, the nights get longer. I was just waiting for a message, and my mind felt cold and afraid of the dark, on white sheets, as if there was a place to hide.
1:56 and the message came, there was nothing left to celebrate, but the night had already dressed me in silence, and the rain had already told me in my ear, and everyone was asleep, and me and you were ready to attend its end, the end of the longest night of the year., And there was nothing left to celebrate as the silence was all-encompassing and the silence was you.
Photography by Trang Doan
I dedicate myself mainly to try not to dedicate myself to anything, to think about things that I have to stop, to do, to think and then to change all that for a little more of the same, then try again, and try not to repeat myself, to do what I want to do, but forgetting it a little, a lot, a lot and enough to be able to sleep at night. Basically, the same thing that the great majority of people do; learn, know, demonstrate and realize that they know nothing, that is the merit, there is the real merit and the reason for being human. Commit the crime and then turn yourself in.