Saturday January 5th, I wake up with a hangover; not from alcohol but from something much more bitter. Last night I fought with the weather (again) and for a change it remains indolent to my claims. It all started since the unmovable decided to become brief with you and eternal with me.
Dalí represented Einstein's theories of relativity of time with soft clocks in the persistence of memory, to show how time runs differently for everyone; and indeed there are clocks that melt faster than others. As proof we have your watch and mine, somewhat intertwined but out of sync, wandering in time sands of different deserts.
Your watch light, soft, warm, with the hours full and always in a hurry. Every second a new drop drips from it, without worries because time is no longer enough, crossing every minute with all kinds of clocks that go to their own time, instantly forgetting those who leave and focusing on those who arrive, without rest but cheerful and full of life.
And my solid, cold watch, with empty hours, barely with the flexibility of a piece of old plasticine. Rarely seen dripping some cold drop when it manages to cross paths with some other clock, it stands bitterly reminding them of the rest of what seems endless hours of loneliness. Proving that slow is not always content.
And so in one of the aforementioned crossroads your time and mine became entangled for a moment, fleeting for you and perpetual for me. I can't get angry with you for having a clock that melts faster than mine, so I get angry with the time author of my torture, that even if he refuses to listen to my complaints I will show him that I will not continue to be his slave, that's why I get drunk with poison, to melt this damned clock once and for all.
Photography by Denis Ryabov
I write because a little ray of brown sunshine made me feel that I was capable of doing it.