A dropper

So far the only place where I have been able to drink a sexual sangria and I have not done so was in Pinar del Río, to the west of Cuba.

Look at the tablet/ :P

I wonder if I am losing faculties. 😂

Seriously, I have to tell you, that I'm still blocked. This evening exercise is something like letting my thought drip. Let it fall under its own weight while I listen to a melody without lyrics so that my words are not contaminated and come out like this, docile, without marks, without folds, to be stamped in the ether, or in this network of zeros, ones and complex algorithms.

I want to say that I have not drunk coffee at this time (is over) and I miss the one I had in the portal of the Museum of Natural Sciences, with my friend, while we had a somewhat absurd conversation in which I told her that a ghost was lurking for me.

She didn't understand, and I didn't do much to explain the incomprehensible to her either. But laughing is therapy. The cool morning with which I tried to relieve the worrying return trip to Havana was also so, and being there by her side, away from everything, just looking at the columns and arabesques of the ceiling, was a momentary therapy.

I wonder if this is the best way to live.

It's that I've been alone for a long time. Among my books, my lists of music that I put together while my feelings or my torments varied, and I have found that name there, in all that morass, between guilt and resignation, in laziness too, I admit. And no, don't tell me I have to go out to look for something, because you know that's not the shape of my heart.

I repeat that name sometimes at dawn, drenched in sweat, while I am dreaming real things, so real that when I wake up I cannot know where I am, but I am saved by the fact that the story remains still, shy, in the same place, as if it adheres to the door that closes with each awakening. Then it gives me some time to get used to the idea that reality is different and so, in truth, I like to start my day.

It's that I have those sensations on my skin, and I smile and speak out loud, because I'm alone and I can, and they won't call me crazy. It might seem ironic, is life like that? But we can always stick with the last thing Alanis tells us. Let us be reasonable.

Think what you want, but here I am reflecting. Look at how many games and no one plays. They are there dying of disgust, and they tell me that the children today, precisely today, took time to wake up. They came for a while, they were here, with their chatter, and went somewhere else to play over things that fly.

Adrenaline. That's what we demand now or a sexual sangria (hahaha), no, we have already left this in the first line of this post. It's time to reinvent yourself. And if only I could hold you, you'd keep my head from going under into these crazy lines that look more like a suction device.

Seriously. Who are you waiting for?

All this time you have been running away from me, because you know that I am bound and broken on the floor. Not even a Mystic's Dream can save me.

Maybe all this doesn't tell you anything, but from the beginning I warned that I am trying to unblock my mind. It's just an exercise of reflection, and while I'm at it, I show you my lateral thinking, or divergent, or critical (I don't know, I'm usually very demanding with myself, I put pressure on myself), deductive? look, there are 24 types of thoughts. I feel like my head is exploding, and I take a deep breath and I get real high...

What's going on?

You found the light in me that I couldn't find.