Playlist de Spotify Luces en la 41
VOLVER A CASA
Volver después de tanto, no siempre es sinónimo de comienzo placentero. A veces es una cuesta arriba.El camino de vuelta estuvo empañado de lágrimas. Llovía, también fuera. Ni siquiera la ciudad me daba una buena bienvenida cuando yo lo que necesitaba, es que me abrazara.
Volver a abrir la puerta de casa, no siempre es sinónimo de descanso. A veces es un tormento.
La llave incluso no quería abrir. Pareciera que dos semanas hubieran sido años de desalojo y la cerradura hubiera enmohecido.
Volver a sentir a veces cuesta.
El olor a falta de aire, a no humanidad, pesaba más que mi cuerpo tirándose de golpe al sofá. No era yo, era todo. Todo se había dejado. No quedaba una planta viva en la terraza. Sí, solamente una: la tradescantia, que por su nombre solamente la conocen en su casa a la hora de comer, porque señal o no, la llamamos “amor de hombre”
BACK HOME
Coming back after so much is not always a synonym of a pleasant beginning. Sometimes it is an uphill climb.The road back was clouded with tears. It was pouring, outside too. Even the city didn't welcome me when I needed a hug.
Opening the door of your home again is not always a synonym of peace and quiet. Sometimes it's a torture.
The key didn't even want to open. It seemed like two weeks were years of abandonment and the lock was mouldy.
Sometimes it's hard to feel again.
The stench of shortness of breath, of non-humanity, weighed more than my body slamming on the couch. It wasn't me, it was everything. Everything had been left behind. There wasn't a living plant left on the balcony. Well, just one: the tradescantia, although that name is not known by many. Believe it or not, we commonly call it "man's love", and maybe that is a sign.