Last days of easy life.
Simple writing gets me nowhere
I can see the reddish sunset reflected on a corporate building a few blocks away. It was built not long ago, maybe a couple of years. It covers the view we had of the port. Before it stood there my grandmother could see me every morning riding my bicycle to go to school through the streets curvy ways. I miss the tales of school and gradma. I miss homework on wednesday night. I miss not having time running out. I miss trusting I’d be fine. I don’t want the night to come and bring me back this same day because I’m sick of knowing I can’t build anything that will be worth the view.
In Rio for the 107th time
- We watched the fireworks at Copacabana in that summer a while back, us having moved to the other corner of the city in order to fit in with the current time. Remember? A crowded tunnel with sounds of gunshots coming from motorbikes that slowly entered the place. I became paralyzed with thoughts of TV news flashing my mind; people closing the tunnel’s entrance to shoot everyone up on December 31st.
- Alone, walking five minutes in the right direction to have some coffee at the gas station’s convenient store amidst John’s postcard view: A monument made of stone of the size of fifteen buildings, over three hundred stores high. Coffee with cigarettes in mind, an excuse to walk for a longer time during the way back home. What a view. Our apartment a few miles away from the city’s bay. Getting up 14 floors; Looking frontwards; The sight of planes heading towards the international airport by the line of the horizon. Inside the room, four people sparsed on bed forever choosing to stay in and watch videos of American surfers one at a time surfing Thailand’s greatest waves. Dynamic movement to the sound of pop synths.
- The feeling I get now when I go out with you to bars. Sitting outside waiting endlessly for a table. Or immobilized on a chair as the space gets thoroughly explored by fast moving waiters all around. Deaf and mute counting seconds to depart.
- Getting lost in the city’s familiar streets. Having people come and greet, tell directions to Google map’s destinations without having even been asked. “Feel free to open the fridge”, remarked by the local accent and long-winded talk. The heat of people’s care. “Stay with me, you share the room.” Or get illegal in the cab heading home. No sweat, this is Rio.
I miss math!!!!!!!!