Writing
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Doctor Talacha
So, I think I'd like you to tell me that everything's fine, that underneath everything's fine, that there are scratches and dents, but that everything's fine.
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The Great Longing
The world is beastly, roguish, wicked — little garden angels. I have not seen freedom on the hot asphalt, suffocated by rubber, by shoes worn out from fatigue, by baby strollers, by urine, by saliva, by tears.
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A Woman’s Death
They call you dead who do not know you live behind eyelids, inside too-long-unopened drawers, on some postcard lost enroute, tucked into a postman’s back pocket.
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The Echo of What I Ask For
I walk against the wind, feeling my body clothe itself in tremor. I have lost my lucidity amid the dazzling, strange lights of this city.
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Another example
At the summit of Wat Tham Suea, at the feet of the Buddha, a yellow butterfly circled me.
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Unironed garments
Pasajeros se entrelazan, chaquetas sin usar, mentes sin usar, fusionándose, desplazándose, moviéndose…
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You Embraced My Nakedness
Lo único que recuerdo de aquella escena es un abrazo que te hizo quedarte y que yo no huyera de aquel momento, ese abrazo nos hizo quedarnos…
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Three Hours of Eternity
Eternity can also be three hours of kisses: in the front seat, in the darkness downtown, with your favorite song on loop until dawn.
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Before the River Rises
Ghost with wide eyes, wandering in the background of photographs and in the reflection of windows: you often stroll through my mind with your light gait that makes me smile, as if your memory were an inside joke I speak about with myself when I’m alone.
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I Want to Dream with You
Quiero soñar contigo… y con la luna y su lado oscuro; ese lado que nadie en la Tierra jamás ha visto.
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Glasses and Promises
I want to lose myself in your eyes like in streets without a map, drink your laughter like the oldest wine.
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Today I Woke Up
I woke up wanting to go to the movies, but I remembered there aren’t any left. I also woke up wanting to read a book, but they stopped printing them long ago. Today I woke up wanting to know the news, but I remembered everything always gets worse.
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Resurrection
In a living Stations of the Cross, I walk. I carry the cross of my decisions: for choosing to live life like a Shakespearean play, for choosing to render it into poetry on this page.
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I Hope You’re Proud
The kind of piercing memory that arrives when you doubt yourself. Like the feeling of leaving home and sensing that something is missing. Like forgetting the last item on the grocery list.
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The Photos We Chose
When you develop film, you have the negative of everything you shot, but the photograph is consummated only once you have the positive, whether in black and white or color. Therefore, the negative is like an abstraction: a guide toward the final image.
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The Statues
Never had I seen such a beautiful statue so forgotten: “Reading contemporary novels, woman of oxidized copper.”
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Manic Episode 1.0
I run up and downstairs, up and downstairs, turn my room upside down, and tidy it up again. It's spotless, but the cup I'd poured myself is cold again, and I resign myself to using the microwave.
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Something About the Sea, Time, and Space
The sea, then, existed for me only in my imagination. At home, we had a black bookcase that barely stood on tiny legs that were always about to give way, which we had to prop up with folded magazine paper. We called it “the little bookcase.” On top of it, as in many homes in Mexico, a seashell served as an ornamental piece.