The passage from not seeing you to seeing you was intimidating. Was it you? As long as I occupy this place, only for moments I’ll be able to answer that question. The girl talked too much. You answered her in a disdainful manner, as if you were fed up with her.
It was you. You, behind that face, at that moment; but you didn’t recognize me. I got off the subway before my stop, with fright for having found and lost you.
Thoughts walking on the inner side, entering through the ears or the nose… who knows through where. They scare like bugs.
I could, finally, stop. I’m exhausted, at least despair attenuated.
This morning I woke up asleep, coffee couldn’t wake me, neither did the fresh air outside when I left. I worked sleeping, got home, rested, had dinner and went to bed to dream I didn’t know I slept.
I look for pain in every trail. For the pinch that’ll wake me. Something tells me it’s not true nothing happens. I sip my coffee and a bird sings.
(A murmur in my throat surprises me. Words run over themselves and die squashed.)
I made this work in Illustrator drawing the vectors freehand. As a template I used a photograph of a holiday I took in Villa Gesell, a town on the Atlantic Coast of Buenos Aires Province.
There’s no death, it’s just a lie we believe that exists. But there’s no getting out through the flesh, ’cause the flesh is no door. We are.
The rest is nonsense.
I see in him a sad look… I made it based on a picture of my son when he was a baby (now he’s 13). Maybe it was me who put the sadness in the drawing.
It’s not a game, I think it’s the satisfaction of a need. I wouldn’t care to go on, if it wasn’t for the stupid and limited collective mind. There’s a connection that is given between people and goes beyond conventions and permissions. But it seems everyone prefers to suffer.
I made this work—as always—in Illustrator, drawing the vectors freehand over a photograph I took myself.
The Floralis Genérica is a metal sculpture placed in the United Nations Square on Avenida Figueroa Alcorta in Buenos Aires. It was made of stainless steel with an aluminum and concrete skeleton. Supposedly, the petals should open and close automatically on a certain time of the day, but the electrical system that accomplishes this marvel is broken, and no one wants to put the money needed to repair it.
The other side is this one I’m looking towards right now, the one I’m writing at, in which I little can if I don’t insert in the words something more than their meaning (a magic that makes them carry feelings+sensations); that’s why those who deactivate the brain get so much more.
I invite you to read Be Gone on my Patreon page. It is a short story about life, dreams (the ones we have when we sleep) and tough decisions.