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had no desire. I resisted. Had been many months of solitude. Back without him was an exercise difficult to understand, this time for those around me. I saw
lost no time to return and unwilling to be summarized. The expected change was in front and the illusion of old was gone to over ten thousand kilometers.

But one day I was buying the travel pass. I was arranging to tea biscuits, chocolate, cigarettes and pleasant conversations Insper. Strolling through the shops with people Fuencarral nine-hour strength. Taking cane on Friday. Playing hung in eternal classes had kept in the drawer of nightmares. Welcoming people in a house with my name on your keychain.
All unintentionally.

And after thousands of suitcases, of hours in planes, trains, cars, buses ... no time to write, think ... just sleep and miss you, finally, a sleepless night that reminds me that she got lost on the road and do not know how to solve it. My friends fall in love and I dread not having time to see it. I no longer send messages or share insomnia, but it is inevitably a constant in my life, my third-man. Sometimes also a concert, a date, a silence or a short memory as a paper. I have plenty of outstanding travel and thousands of plans that do not fit my fingers.
For all this, I hope.

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first night, a month later. First night

stings distance leaving a certain sweet pain that can not be better traveling companions (travel, hopeless future.)

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I deleted over 1 GB of messages. Three years of memories. New life for my mobile also.

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August, en route to the coast. Music

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letters no longer flow. "The country of last things" from the table looking at me asking to be critical. Centuries ago I'm not going to the movies and be part of your magazine I'm excited. Blow

cakes with candles and I call that arrived late or never arrived. Meanwhile, a bombing crisis, the bullet train, smoke, ash, money, money, money ...

light was going and I'm no window to the world. I look at my agenda that I do not want to add names. The quota was filled and now without them I do not lift a finger.

need a week of oxygen and new projects. I have patience. I enjoy it, make it mine, because I know one day I will miss.

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May 2008 Argentina Buenos Aires 2008

BE

I do not know yet what made me feel
is like burning fever when
If you drag the tag
reach a final site
how long keep a secret?.
be for you by my

will be for all that we
until dawn.
From the mountain roads hug

unexplored rain calm "the wilderness?
With the soul in the hands

trying to figure out what will become of our winged body?.
be for you by my

will be for all that we
be for everything that went
be for everything that went
until dawn.

Las Pelotas

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P toilet trying to guess if I notice on the face, clothes, gestures, if I see pint of foreign strolling leisurely, stress-free folder or notebook. I'm sorry to read, but I raise my head from time to time, I feel observed or lose my living space and the safety of my hand into the bag.

Tired of watching everything what I'm getting, I think they will do both. At the time, location, and what I miss. Sad news reaches me sink the soul for hours, and other cheerful illusion multiply by miles. I see pictures, new, to try to reflect some of what I'm living. Also old, who preside over my wall and my computer. My life in little space.

For attention, but people keep the pace frantic, and I'm taking baby steps in the past.

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Every night grabs his chair and dressed in a spotless white plays his flute. Relax, do not look at anyone and with clear foot sock has rhythm of notes almost nonexistent. The beard from seeing if she smiles, is there, oblivious to the screams, the stench of garbage, the pickers who labor in whatever they can get the mc Donals to us that every day I look.

are Mari and Albert, her Italian, he's here but also parents tetanus. Live on their quiosquito filled sandwich cookies, chocolates and infinite number of candy which I can not give a name. His dream is to know its origins, save money to travel to Europe someday. They are a normal family, that every day I explain where to buy meat and make fun of my English expressions. Are legal and give me confidence.

we went with loud music and went to turn her head I saw him. Like that scene from The Sixth Sense in which to look out the window the protagonist saw the girl staring bicycle stand. He could not have more than ten years, was dirty and put my hand in the car. The mixture of feelings is present, you get scared, I feel sorry for are just kids with more street ... anyone, and sometimes drugged.

A family, blonde grandmother, mother, blonde, blonde daughters, Father Brown. All brand dresses, girls seemed to outputs of a clothing catalog. The mother, haughty, impatient and makes a face tells her husband with a glance. I thought you were English. Then I heard about, Argentina, but as if the English would hover. So speak here without bony, but with a potato in your mouth. Limited partnership were to pick up his English passport, and his gait of money left the scene.

seemed Peru, Bolivia. Not understand the talk, had dirty hands grabbing potatoes and vegetables. Seemed helpless and bored of being in that place. Four times he tried to deceive. Putting the rotten potatoes in the bag, the lettuce that nobody wants, the broken carbon stock in exchange for money. Asshole.

Welcome to Buenos Aires.

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"My Life Without Me"

The dog did not want to go, and goodbye to my magic stone was in the distance. Just wanted to see my past. And although it was dark and he was funny also Lua, I went into that field until you can see it well. The highway was in the middle but still I could see them. First I saw him, tall and handsome. Reflecting looked down shyly, but she did go to decided, fixing his eyes and a smile rogue air. She, short and with a slightly posh placed her hand on his knee, he did the same outgoing stroking his leg bone, all in complete silence, perhaps because they were hiding behind a bush, or perhaps because the silence was the best way to understand. He seemed to be the neighborhood bad boy, tanned and in fights and girls, hard but able, if it is cold, take off his jacket to put it to her. With less life and with the ease of which has not suffered it, which boasts rise in its motorcycle tough guy and grabs his ribs to feel safe and secure, alas, who knows if for life. And the pocket a red sweatshirt makes them accomplices in a join hands.

I sit and light a cigar while the dog decides to wait further. You can tell they know nothing about each other. Why have suffered, that unites them and separates them, what annoys them, what they have done the past eight years, which felt that summer or sleep well. Are regarded with the curiosity of time and distance. With the love of complicity. He abandoned his air of neighborhood and formal dresses. Apparent maturity for each of its pores and knows where to stand. She left behind fear and cowardice and seems smaller. The silences are broken with alcohol and computer points. There was nothing to lose.

feel the cold in the hand holding the cigar. And the air prevents me from doing oes with jaw strokes. I have an upset stomach and I can not see the dog. I decide to get up and slight dizziness makes me close my eyes. I see them, he cute and handsome, with his bow and stomach pain. Would have liked to bite your tongue, you may not have gone, not thinking, not listening. She shows pictures of then and try to guess what happened. And why now. It's late.

I run behind the dog, who decides to return home without a leash and to come to the door sits and stares at me. I bend down almost to screaming and the tears came in my eyes. None known. But he will miss, because the clock never given a chance.

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The day that started it all ...


My cousin is still hallucinating, and height (Santiago) never responded, he did, me too and now look ...

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That stops the world, only to stand until Tuesday. To stop the plans of attack in my sleep. Not appear pending appointments, unspoken words, the future of nostalgia ... Now me and the intensity alone. Then it will look. Stand up, this time not under me.