Playwright

Someone asked me a few weeks ago if I was a playwright. Without thinking I answered: no, well, Sin con tacto was the first one but... error!

According to the Spanish Dictionary, a playwright is that author who writes dramatic plays. That could explain why my immediate answer was negative because it was a comedy... a tragic comedy but comedy. But being realistic, I must be part of that category. And I say must because it's something to be proud of. Definitely. And I say category because to name things is to give them an entity even when we do not always like labels. Because here it means to keep going.

Another thing is to be considered a novelist. Yes, I'd published a book five years ago and I'm now (and who says now is also talking about four long years) working on three more, but, while they are stored in a couple of notebooks and many online documents, without anyone having a knowledge of it apart from trusting my words as no one has access to those pages, I don't think I could include myself in that layer. And I say include myself because to know where you are and where you would like to be, is to be interested in making progress. And I say layer because it is a profession even when some people try to diminish its value.

It's true! I finished writing Sin con tacto by October, but, since I'm working on two more projects that I'm already talking about with someone else and I'm confident that will be played at some point, I can temporarily define myself as playwright.

The secret life of socks

They blamed the dog and the cat alternatively despite being as good as gold. The first almost didn´t bark and the second was sleeping the whole day under the sofa. And even so, each time someone picked the laundry, they attended the discussion very regretful, probably because both had dreamed to play with them. But no, they weren't the guilties for the disappearance of the socks in that house.

The sweet Laura thought that they were doing as her parents, that one was tired of living together and had moved to a richer neighbourhood. Her friends from soccer told her that if there was a money situation, it was for sure that there was a third sock. Her Spanish teacher warranted her that they were punished for not doing their homework, and so on, if she didn't want to vanish like them, she already knew what to do.

David was convinced that they were hospitalized due to smelly poisoning, an option that the girlfriend of that moment definitely confirmed. Of course, considering the jungle that was supposed to be his bedroom, it wasn't that strange that, instead of lost, they had hidden by their own choice.

Flora justified to them, yes, it was their time to live alone... as she would have liked. She was jealous, with her two days contract and the ridiculous salary... But at least, she had more than those who went to uni. She imagined the socks living in a small village by the mountain, eating the food they were growing, breathing clean air, greeting the cows every morning,... and the snowfalls leaving them isolated, the lack of internet and the sixteen kilometres to socialize with someone of their age... were just resignations of a happy life.

Virginia swore that she put it all together on the washing machine and if someone had complaints, it was the perfect time for them to learn how to use it, it wasn't that difficult! She betted that they went around the world due to her house boredom. Oh, Greece, they should have been walking around the temples from those gods. No, no, a romantic trip to Paris, not like those going to Benidorm for the honeymoon because "everyone does". She was just hoping that they didn't bring any souvenirs because it was something else to clean.

Matt, that didn't have a voice in that house anymore, considered that they were on strike because of the extra hours. Yes, maybe they didn't fight enough to keep that working but it was a matter of two. Two!! Anyway, the papers were already signed and there wasn't anything else to talk about, isn't it? Yes, we keep walking about socks, what if not?

The grandmother Antonia was determined to blame those from the tv. She was sure that after switching it off, they came across the screen and misbehaved as the one from the soap operas. And at the same time, eating some chocolates because she didn't like them so much. No, she didn't, of course...

The neighbour of the fifth, that always had to give her opinion because she was living there for so long and, yes, that means to have some privileges, had the theory that they were voluntary on a trip searching for a seamstress, because being as cute as they were but with those holes, was almost a crime. She wouldn't have minded fixing them, it would have been just a minute, but as she wasn't welcomed there anymore...

The postwoman, that was just bringing a parcel but as was already there they insisted her to give also her verdict, didn't understand why they were discussing so much, it was very simple: they must have fallen from the stall and they weren't going to see them again anymore.

Silently, in one corner of the balcony, the washing machine had been consuming those little cloth pieces. Oh, if someone decided to accuse her... They would have learnt what was about the end of the world. No, now, seriously, she wasn't that bad person, it was just the loneliness, if she had at least a dryer to team up... Furthermore, it was just one... two socks... no one would have noticed, isn't it? The option of combining them wasn't that bad, it wasn't necessary to keep everything perfect. Or three... or four... five? And considering the situation, maybe she was just giving them an opportunity of a better life.

Convergent

 Error

_________

.............

_______

Noise

Error

When?

Is there any sign before it happens? How long does it last craked? How to check its resistance? Or does it not matter if it's broken because it can be repaired? How to know if it's coming to an irreversible stage? Can be used any type of glue? How to know if the paste is the correct one or it will cause an allergic reaction? What if the smallest piece gets lost? What if the injury is still infected after being cleaned every day with oxygenated water? It can be used then as if nothing has happened? What about getting broken at the same place? What about those injuries on the opposite side? What if the glue that I need is made thousands of kilometres far from here? What if I can not afford its treatment? What if it doesn't exist and I have to invent it? What if I decide that there is no cure? How long should I wait for that judgement? Is it my decision or can I share it? Could I accept it after its downfall? Can I give it another use even when I perfectly know for what it was made for? How long for the grief? How to organize the funeral? Can I arrange better a party with music until the sunrise?

Because I don't know when but it will collapse. Because I don't know when the answers will come but I'm going to ask everything. Because I don't know when but will definitely keep flying.

You'll find me in the rain

My bowels covered by sand,

my feet

pieces of glass.

I talked with the clouds,

will let you see the stars.

You already know where I live.

Don't think about me.

Look at me.

Sing to the moon.

Feel me.

I walk in your dreams

until the city swallows us.

Let the bonfire lit,

feed it with your wakefulness.

I keep swimming in your lips,

touching your hair.

I keep sailing your hours,

fencing your fears.

I'm still here.

Closed window

It could have been without the stubbornness, if instead of always silent, we would have talked; if instead of always speaking, we would have looked into each other's eyes.

It could have been without all the responsibility, if we could have done a break from everything else, if everything else wouldn't have to be a break.

It could have been without all the waiting, if the innocence had been there just for a visit, if the experience had been just another traveller.

It could have been without all the fear, if the courage would have kept walking, even those small or silences steps; if the guts would have allowed the breath that lungs weren't.

It could have been... but it's not. It simply hasn't been.

Your mother

I met your mother today. She hasn't changed anything! And I'm really happy that she hasn't fallen to it again. Honestly, I was so glad of seeing her. I didn't ask about you. I don't know, I thought it was the best. I showed her the pictures from when I was in Tanzania and spoke to her about my next travel to the Philippines. I don't know, I thought it was the best... for me. Because I was convinced that she was going to tell you about me. That's why, when she asked me how I really was, I did my best to lie to her. She noticed it but followed me. Your mother was the best of our relationship. I promised her to call soon and I really want to do it.

Sorry. Yes, I know that I didn't have to, but she would have been so happy. A couple of days before my departure to the Philippines I had the phone on my hand and already searched her number, but something was wrong with my passport and... It would have been so expensive to call from there and, as she still doesn't want to use whatsapp... I can't understand it: she's so good with new technologies but is determined to not install the app. Well, what I'm going to tell you? You're exactly like her. Okay, I didn't think about a letter or a postcard. I agree, that was my fault, but I was supposed to stay there for a few months and it's been now almost four years. It's a beautiful place and my work there has been... has been hard but also rewarding and... I don't know... to be abroad for so long... But I've seen her today again, well, I was going directly to your house. I didn't go up. She was in the park with your nephew. It's a beautiful boy! I think she was fine, yes, maybe more tired, with some grey hair, but her haircut looks so nice. And her trips to spas? What if she is now the one who gets a boyfriend? Can you imagine it? Yes, common, you were the one joking all the time about it and you would be pleased if she falls in love again. Your mother is a wonderful woman that everyone likes. Of course, like anyone else, with her temperament. I suppose that she has already told you that I'm going to settle here in Spain forever. It's crazy! No, I'm not going to marry soon. Aaah, yes, there is someone that... but no, nothing serious. I didn't ask about you and she didn't mention anything about you... I thought it was the best. She said that I've changed. I think it's just an appearance. I mean... yes, things have happened and... I've learnt, I've stumbled over the same stone... I thought about you... a lot... I even thought that I'd seen you once with a german tourist group. Yes, how could it be you? There are so many kilometres. What's more, you would have cancelled the trip just for avoiding germans, even if it was expensive. You would have been locked in your hotel room before discussing with the guide, and she, kindly but losing her patience, would have shown you that it was your problem for joining a group that wasn't the one you were subscribed with, and she would have clarified it to you twice the day before. No, I'm not a soothsayer, you perfectly know that it would have been like that way. I know you... or... I knew you. Yes, I've overcome it... I do now. I don't know, I imagine I'm talking to you... and everything is fine. I hope that you... I hope that everything goes well for you.

You can not say a word now. It's been less than two months. She was coming from the grocery. She was great physically but... I don't know, there was something... she told me it was your anniversary... you should have told me! Okay, we haven't spoken in years but something like that... I would have been happy... I mean, I am happy... It was her eyes, yes, your mother's eyes used to have light... I told her... and she answered that she was in a hurry because she wanted to visit you... and I thought... "it's the perfect moment to go with her and meet your..." What?... No... Are you not married? I thought that... your... anniversary... I should have known before... I should have... And your mother was as kind as always... We went to your house and drank tea. We talked a lot about you and laughed so much. Yes, you were such a funny man... I think I'll to China. No, no, just a trip, not a long stay, I have to come back and bring your mother a souvenir from the Great Wall. She gave me all your maps and the planning. You were the one who had changed.

Chinas was amazing. Today we went to visit you at the graveyard.

Plans

She put the agenda over the desktop and started to circle the days with different colours. She was going to stay for just a month and, with the excuse of being abroad for so long, was determined to find activities for every afternoon.

After thirty minutes dedicated to the markers, and mobile on hand to fit all her friends in, finished the task with a terrible sensation of discomfort: there were still three days without plans. She enjoyed improvising but it wasn't the right moment. She had prepared herself to talk about it. It was a matter of time. She was just waiting for the perfect timing, it was that.

She looked through the window. The fading rays before nightfall were drawing the sky on purple and orange waves. A light breeze was shaking the appletrees and her cousins were catching each other in the garden. She bitted her lips. She was over there, with her smile and perpetual stillness.

She took the phone and checked her contact list... there were not many options and it was not about organizing meetings with people she didn't want to chat with just for completing the calendar. She could maybe set up another reunion with the schoolmates... or just mention to her uncle how much she missed swimming on the dam.

A sparrow sat on the window frame. They stared at each other and it started to squeak. She smiled and before could realize it, a teardrop was going down her left cheek. She remembered when was smaller and closed her eyes trying to identify the birds and where they were just by their songs. She taught her. She was missing that so much.

It wasn't the time to wait. She took off the agenda's page and threw it. She had to cancel some meetings because there was one with priority.

About yesterday's afternoon

I have to find my recorder. It's that or my fingers writing stories on the phone while walking in Madrid will soon be amputated phalanges, not to mention that I'm going to fall down for not looking ahead.

Yes, I know that phones can also record voice, but the touchscreen won't work with gloves, so it will be the same as before. In favour of the recorder, let's also point out that it has buttons and it can be manipulated without the need of the skin being scarfed by the environment temperature.

What happens is that it will be another type of experience. I mean, on one hand, it will be like talking alone with a weird machine (not weird for me but I suppose it can attract attention, raise glances and I would be distracted because I wanted to find a point of interest in those who felt curiosity).

On the other hand, listening to it would be a problem. A problem? Really, Sara? Please, how tactless... It will be a problem because I would look out my voice's tone and want to squeeze it out more than what it may have (yes, finding details is always interesting when quickly words can not be that specific, but at the end of the day, I think I could be tired of all those analyses, and, well, "it's not necessary to understand everything" - these quotation marks are a reference to another thing that it's not the moment to mention, but that I want to clarify: I'm so proud of).

It will be a problem... a problem? again? it will be that because I would also want to transcribe, beyond my own voice, any other's one and, for sure, will find new and exciting stories... will that really be a problem? Let's see, where I thought there was just one idea, I can find three more, which is amazing but it means a massive amount of short stories that I would not want to write (no, that's a lie)... that I won't be able to write, something frustrating and pointless... if the story wasn't caught by the time it happens, maybe it's not needed to give a voice... and if I have to write it down, I'm pretty sure that it will find a way to appear to me again.

So... this is that I'll keep walking in Madrid with frozen fingers over the phone touchscreen.