Between you and me

I ask myself if we ever trusted our promise. If we didn´t look at each other eyes after a year living together, how would we do it in the distance?

I ask myself if was true what we lived, if it wasn´t the story we wanted to tell everyone when we got back home.

I ask myself if we would really regret it. If we had told each other everything we didn´t even want to think of, would we still talking today?

I ask myself if we will lose the blame at some point, if when dreaming with that pond we wanted to swim in, we would still let words arise.

I ask myself if the pain will abandon the memory before we forget each other.

Hiking

-There was a beach here before... it has to be here, I´d come thousand of times when I was a child. Yes, yes, look around, there must be a beach here! Look, that tree is so similar to the one that I had my foot trapped when I was five years old. It was so difficult to get me free. I was trapped for two hours! Well, to be honest, there is something different... Oh, yes, not many branches. Oh, I´m so sorry little tree, it must hurt. Many people talking about pollution but then they are cutting trees as if nothing was happening. Oh, this is sad, so sad!

-It´s great what you´re saying... no, sorry, so sad. I feel bad that I´m not able to express... my pain like you... but, could you recognise that you are lost and you have no idea how to get to the beach? We´ve been walking for more than an hour and a half and there´s no beach, no cliff, or anything similar.

05-06-2018

The picture

It´s funny that I got that picture when I was supposed not to appear on it.

It´s funny that, instead of saving it at the end of the drawer, I put it on the wardrove and so I can see it every single day.

It´s funny that I look at you all and imagine that you are fighting to achieve your dreams.

It´s funny that after all, I can still think about you with love when I think I should be feeling hate.

It´s funny that I can not remember anything from those years but I still smile when I see each of us posing happily between the trees.

And I should laugh, but I can´t. And it´s sad but it doesn´t matter anymore.

And said: life is a dream

The ones from 5pm are already arriving. I sometimes help with their scenography: a chair and a button... it´s incredible how much you can imagine when there is no money! The thing is that people love it. Just the end is becoming more criticised as they get popular, but that´s good, to be honest.

The corridor is full of crazy people saying that they are "preparing" their voices. I´M gonna prepare them if the atrezzo boxes don´t appear. I´ll go bald with all of them. Oh, yes, it seems impossible but somehow it all goes so well when it´s time to go to the stage.

And the quiet after all... Time to have own life... Well, maybe tomorrow, I should start thinking about how to...

I have a dream: our small theatre gets bigger than us. Oh, run, run, paper and pen, run... that idea is brilliant! Yes, I should change this play from the little room to the more little room... Come on, it´s four in the morning, I must be sleeping.

I had a nightmare. I don´t wanna talk. Did I have dinner last night? Ok, that explains everything. What´s this? That´s an awful idea.

There is no coffee. The new ones have arrived and they even seem formal. Let´s start! So, look for three more actors and money for the amateurs ones. That´s easy! And these other ones? They act as goats but they can not behave like animals.

Oh, no, my mobile, how would a producer work without it!!

Did you say that you have to eat to survive?

---

24 hours in the day of a character

21-11-2017

Too much

It is a shadow without a beginning,

a perfect shape

that seeds the indifferent,

a shooting star

bumping into the vomit.

It is an ethereal wall,

a shield obsessed

with the roughness of the sea,

a detailed lie

escaping from the wisdom.

It is a sleeping watch,

a chain without oxide

that pulls away excuses,

the haircut

mastering the thought.

It is an invisible costume,

a shared gaze

overconfidence,

the sleep at midnight

floating in innocence.

It is a conversation without a listener,

a slow teardrop

that sails frustration,

the wind in the morning

lulling the fragility.

It is a ghost without a body,

a disappointed voice

with the fear of loss,

the forgotten land

fighting to born.

It´s all that

and nothing.

Poetry

Echoes brimming with life,

words that muddy

a tired soul.

I am the whisper

in your mistrust.

The gazes sleeping on paper

are screaming,

all the verses

engaging your chaos.

Need...

Memories into oblivion

from a rescued winter.

Silences from distant voices

caress your crying.

Accelerated heartbeats

shaping your song.

Need of...

Attached dimension

without time to wait,

travel to nowhere

directly to the heart.

Living the infinity

grabbing a handful

of revealed secrets.

Smoke to drunk

my dreams.

Need of being...

To win the gap

with an imperfect joke.

A bush tearing

your rusty skin.

The lies are flying,

the ones that fight the coldness,

the ones burning down your bowels.

Need of being...

poetry.

Ask me

How did we do it? How do we still do it today? I have no specific memory but the certainty of affection has always been there.

When did we start looking at each other eyes? When did we say 'I love you' for the first time? I reread our letters and move about every single step as if I didn´t do it before, as if I could feel everything again.

Where did I find you? Yes, I know that one and it is the reason why we are still here today.

How much did we share? How much do we want to keep sharing? I think about every travel and the times our fingers didn´t touch each other.

What did we tell the nights that we didn´t want to talk? What did we conceal the mornings that we didn´t stop talking? I remember every single innocent gesture and the silence that we didn´t want to drive away.

Why? Why do we have to ask? Why don´t we live it if that´s enough?

All the places from our memory

Such an awful title and unrealistic, but it is what it has to be, is the trace of those days.

Our stay in Studland was coming to an end while we still didn´t know where our final home would be. We couldn´t keep living there and had to move to a hostel in Bournemouth. Our clothes were packed into small bin bags. From one place to the other as packages without destiny or origin. It doesn´t matter how many metaphors I use, that sensation… it could have been something bad, but it wasn´t.

I shared my room with Lenka and Flavia. I did so long walks at the beach and basically, we kept waiting. But it was another type of wait. We received our suitcases and it was quite difficult to move around the bedroom with all our things. We were having notices about a house we may have gone to: big, cozy, with a garden,… and the previous day we were supposed to move, we went down again. The property must have some paper sheets that would take long to be ready (and, moving forward in time, never did).

Our coordinator found us a new house in less than an hour. We would never share a house all together again. And this may sound so dramatic as I have written it and I suppose that some may be thinking of the positive aspects of not sharing a house, but we were about to lose many other experiences. I don´t mind if you don´t understand because I already feel I´m not able to transcribe it. It´s because of this why I´m sometimes not quite sure if I should be writing this memory game but at the same time I´m confirming my need to finally getting it complete.

We said goodbye to Flavia. I went with her to the bus. There is something at the stations that I´m not able to transmit neither but you probably know what I´m talking about.

Inside

It is a constant tremor. It may seem latent. It is not.

Subtle. Sometimes like the quiet sea. Butterflies in the stomach that avoid you to stop smiling. The strength which wakes you up and allows your body to float with every single step. A complicit gaze you will be thinking of the whole day.

Violent. Sometimes like the sea in the middle of a storm. Scratches forcing you to look ahead and the soul breaking into thousand pieces. The strength shaking your body with every single sigh. A poisoned gaze that is the spine you can´t get rid of.

It is a daily shiver. It may be illogical. It is life.

Caffeine into the veins

She blamed the coffee. Drinking it after twelve in the morning made her become overactive.

Blanca moved around the house jumping, orbiting around her as if it were a children´s game. She walked around her bedroom looking up every picture as if it were the first time she saw them. She rummaged a dust particle that has not yet perched on the shelf. She climbed into her bed and wrinkled the sheets knowing that she would get angry until she forgave her with a long kiss. They ended up lying on the floor, with the head over the other´s chest. Blanca caressed her pale skin smoothly as if she were afraid it could crack with a sigh.

They cooked dinner together while laughing loudly. Her gazes didn´t cross but her complicity filled every unplanned silence. Blanca took a big glass of water but was getting drunk by the alcohol she was breathing from her. Their lips were touching each other in the distance with every dinner bite. They had the dessert without stopping talking. Then, Blanca got up and danced in the living room without appearing that she was having an electrical shock as usually happened when someone forced her to dance.

She blamed the coffee although she only drank it with her.