Disruption

I went out walking and found the ashen afternoon. The birds did not wish to be near me either, nor even at a distance where my camera would expose them. Perhaps it was that I needed to be alone, to look up at the royal palms where the only colour that stood out was that of their fruit, so good for feeding the pigs... other trees revealed their beautiful silhouettes in backlight.

There is a feeling that I have slept through my whole life and suddenly opened my eyes at the age of forty‑five... I don’t know. Perhaps I am only going mad... a little more. I kept thinking and thinking about what I might do to recover the lost time… you see? These kinds of vain thoughts. And I sat quietly in front of the screen to look at the photos I had taken. Very few, since I walked less than three blocks, and only came across a woman gardening and a calf tied to a fence, calling for its mother.

In my files I found some images and felt that, visually, they broke apart the whole scheme...

But who cares! I think it looks interesting.

Thus I go, watching as everything falls apart around me, my whole house of cards, my every illusion... And I suppose I shall be able to rebuild everything from the foundations, if I can manage to hold myself up.

While I drift between sleep and wakefulness, I make my own repairs… coincidentally, since the bridge of coincidences has grown too long. Yet again… who cares!

I am so fragmented… how am I to gather all these pieces now and join them into something decent? Into something for which I would not have to feel dissatisfied?

I do not know if life will be enough for me to do so much.

At the beginning of the month I set about gathering words. I shaped them into a book, a modest one. A book that pleads for discerning eyes, for it bears that veil of innocence.

I cannot say the title, as I sent it off to some place of verdicts. Honestly, I would like it to be good for me, but if it merely goes unnoticed, I shall go on gathering words in my drawer for keeping texts.

Now, looking at this wall, I could have used that pseudonym. 😅

Last night I wrote what follows… it is unfinished. But then again, who cares!

Que no me den menos de lo que recuerda mi sangre: una cascada indómita, o el agua blanda que embelesa a las piedras.

Que no me pongan bridas ni alisen mi crin cuando el viento silbe sus canciones…

Llevo cada reliquia de este mundo dentro de mis ojos, custodiadas por el ángel que me hizo despertar.

Let them not give me less than what my blood remembers: a wild cascade, or the gentle water that beguiles the stones.

Let them not place bridles upon me nor smooth my mane when the wind whistles its songs…

I carry every relic of this world within my eyes, guarded by the angel who awakened me.

Havana, 27 November 2025.

Cover created in Canva.

I like that cover photo for the #Monomad Challenge. Thank you always for all the support!