Street photography... who's waiting for the cake?

The street has its armour—you can't see it, but you can feel it. You hesitate, you move forward, you hesitate again, and there is the bell tower and the sound that takes me to you, once and a thousand times. Mystery, fascination, and pain from which I grow.

I command you to return to your origin, to me, to your reflection.

“Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Say you’re running and you think, ‘Man, this hurts, I can’t take it anymore. The ‘hurt’ part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself.”

― Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running

And so the mirrors also absorb the life of the streets. Shiny and dusty, impeccably or chipped to the point of mutilating your breath.

I am here, in your shoes, but walking among the people and their resentments and voracities. I have also felt compassion and joy, the kind that only comes as if someone is sending echoes from a distant and unknown place.

However, I disapprove of what you are doing now, what you have been doing for days... what do I say?, decades: you waste so much to shine what cannot simply shine because the light is in you.

How long do you think my nourishment will last? I said forever and ever I would stand firm because I am responsible for our lives... but that doesn't give you the right to leave me all the burden... and the silence.

Please, come back.

...

I wouldn't say I like hospitals or dreary corridors. I don't take pills, I get depressed many times by the suffering of others and I keep waiting for you to take the first and definitive steps, the steps of the dancer who didn't let herself be overcome by adversity.

Just dance, and look beyond what you see. It's an echo I dream of. Look at what lies beneath the surface, beneath the sand, the waves.

Those words wake me up in the morning.

Let's see, the weather is cool today. This is a municipality in Havana which is looking peeling and I have to go there shortly, again. To make it clearer for you, as soon as I finish writing this post I will go there. The streets always look very crowded, invariably. Dangerous. The danger is always latent wherever hope is probably lost. People struggling as best they can. Life going on... the usual.