I dreamed of you, Nepal

Standard
“We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that... And yet it all seems limitless.”  The Sheltering Sky. Paul Bowles.   -I am taking holidays for India. Holidays Read more [...]

From a distance, he looked just like him…

Standard
Until that moment, he had been only words. Only words without a face. That doesn’t mean there is something totally wrong about it. That’s why literature is literature: everyone can imagine the characters as they want and, although the writer describes him with periods and moles, wrinkles and commas, on the reader's mind that character will always have different faces, depending on whoever reads the lines who cherish him. The problem is when the writer has not even clear how that character Read more [...]

How difficult is to love an Israeli soldier

Standard
  To him He combs my hair in such a soft way, so soft, so softly that I could keep writing during all these paragraphs “soft” and, not even like that, I would be able to describe how soft he does it. Like if my hair could really hurt me. I think is unbelievable that such a big hand can do something so delicate. And, while he’s doing it, I think is unbelievable that with that same hand with which he so gently caresses my hair with a simple comb, he can also shoot a rifle. A hand Read more [...]

I never stay because no one ever says “stay”

Standard
Legend has it that a few years ago, a group of spinsters friends and I (likely, the most spinster of all), met on February 14th to go to a bar and drink some beers of spite. Right: don’t judge us. Whoever who hasn’t got drunk to the rhythm of Franco de Vita, Alejandro Sanz or, in the worst case, Paquita la del Barrio, may cast the first stone. Oh well, maybe you can judge us a little bit: in our purses, besides the make- up kit (my friends), the cigarettes (me) and the cellphone (all) to delight Read more [...]

Other people’s time

Standard
Other people’s time is that one that is not mine, but, curiously, becomes mine as well. That one, for example, when I look at Facebook and he “is in green” and not talking to me, and I don’t talk to him either. That one which lasts for minutes, hours, weeks, months. Years. That one being stretched and that we believe will continue stretching itself forever. Since childhood, I have been impatient. And when they ask me for my flaws, this is almost always the first one to highlight: impatient. Read more [...]