The wait for the words that may never come remains. Words and facts forever bind, as true as anything else can be.

Hope falls with me, scratching its knee. Loneliness by our side, padding our heads, gently pushing our backs. Routine whispering wild stories of feelings and thoughts in our ears, so foreign, so close.

A liar feeling guilt, taking the option of becoming what she never expected to be; wrestling lust, fighting love, numbing the heart, ignoring her mind… Miserably losing at it all.

An enthusiastic child that believes his quest has come to an end; feeling it all right in the moment, idealizing possibilities only he can see.

A life companion, another broken beauty that chooses to be distant to an actual piece of himself; knowing nothing at all, forever being on someone else’s mind and heart.

A shy dog that retreats and does not say goodbye; feeling the bond, not showing a thing.

How probable is it to be the only soul wired like this? Feel with me, stay by my side; so close, look at me, inside and out.



You make the time when you care and you open your eyes when you can, when it’s been a long time in the dark, when hoping didn’t give you much back.

And the shore is wide, the tide is back, and the mountain’s shadow is all around.

That, time. Healer, slayer. Dawn after dawn.


I feel it come. Low voice, slow pace. It comes.

Five seconds that made the blue car stop. Stop for the stray cat’s ninth life’ sake; and then, carry on. Carry on to crash with a momentarily misplaced white car down the road. It’s crucial. In the same way, it won’t go.

Subtle at first, playing with my hair; making me feel the touch I lack of and crave for.

It comes when I wait, while evil monsters play with our hope; so far water splashed but safe on the shore. Evil seeds planted for me eyes to see. Green growing facts only a fool could forever refuse or foresee. One of those envied fools with a velvety heart; unscratched, unnamed for.

It’s a lie, all a plot. Once again. I don’t deserve love. It’s true, what it seemed. I’m alone.

Play that song to me. The one that says what you don’t already know, all what you know, and all we need to know. Calm down the beast, let it find peace again and keep walking this long lonely road. The road that one day, will be no more.

The best is yet to come

And so the title spoke, in the same subtle way the wind speaks to my sunburnt back.

A new year has begun. They go by so fast, as professional runners in a marathon.

Things are as they are, and they will be what they will be.

You only have hope, that helps you move on and look ahead with latent joy.

The stars set oddness as my company for life, what a delight!, what a bluff!

But hush there, listen… The best is yet to come.


Life is very good right now. Life could be better though.

New experiences and new hopes have been born. But also some of the old; the secondary clock in my computer is still set on Amsterdam’s time.

The alarm goes off in the mornings, waking up is as difficult as ever, but there is so much to look forward during a working day.

Yet… I’m in love with love. Feelings imitate chameleons. What’s up? Move on, walk on, fight, grow. Keep hoping for the best, prepare for the worst.

Dearest ally and enemy, oh clock.


Almost it all

Unsuccessfully repressed anger. A constant and unrelated -if soft- headache.

Awake. Sleep chasing after me. Do not think. Do not feel. The bird and the fish.

Frustration that built up with desires of flesh and soul that have not been met.

I have not failed to see the easy coming beauty. Precious ephemeral rose beds.

Memory needs strength. The reasons. The differences. The love. The needs.

Life. Mind. Heart. Body. Trusted to a sense of certainty. Certainty and hope.

But cursed I am. Cursed it is. The feeling. Curiosity met by creators of doubt.

No one understands. Compounds. Same elements. Different arrangement.

Tears have stopped coming down while seated in uncomfortable bus rides.

The kite has been cut from the cord. Repeat the words. I do not care anymore.

Let it hurt. Let it burn. After one -only one lifetime- it will be gone. Almost it all.

Letting go

Taking advantage of my insomnious mind that is spreading its state to my eyes, here it goes… Some hours ago, in a fine afternoon of those ones who invite for a walk, I ended up in front of the house of my long ago neighbor, my friend. One of those friends you don’t see often, but every time you get together it seems like not much time has passed after all.

It was a short visit, a talk of usual and not so usual subjects, surrounded by the falling paint in the concrete stairs outside, and the wild growing grass beside them. Among what we talked, a short story I bring forth…

Summer was approaching in places not so far north of the equator. Days were getting dryer, rains were starting to stop; but Winter was having a hard time letting go.

Fight scenes were woven. Water would fall from the sky in the middle of sunny warm days. Birds would noisily protest the constant struggle, while following the path to their far, wet, heated new stage. Temperatures would rise and fall at chance’s will. Winds would blow, whispering, announcing their time had come.

Winter glimpsed at blooming flowers, filled dams, singing birds, growing trees… cared for them so much! They all grew from seeds, from bits, from dreams, to something Winter hadn’t known before, a materialized feeling that was both part of him and not. How could he go? Back in may he had come; so soon weeks had come and gone. Winter wanted to be there for their sunset and dawn; but then again, there were the saturated soils…

Tired, defeated, but with remaining hope, Winter decided to finally let go. As a new season, he would be reborn.