WATER

Floating on the water and facing the Sun, I depicted a thought, seeking a pen and a sheet of paper so as not to lose the sensation, I wrote it in the sand.

Climbing up and riding that wave, I discovered by chance a light resting place, a faraway resting place where suffering, in the end, is not painful, where the wise man stays and waits for me for hours.

Every evening he is there in the park, on the same bench, talking to himself. He who comes forth from darkness has a Spanish voice, dull skin and a tangled beard impossible to manage. Going past him, I don't speak to him, I'm afraid that his intention might infect me, but that mad soul is no longer contagious, while that free one is.

And I flow through time like the water of a river.

Sinking into the wave of different thought, I enter into limbo. There is the dream-witch with her olive-coloured skin, the beautiful woman who stares at me for hours, and looks at me in silence, into the depths of my heart. Her appearance is proud and her glance even more so, a princess from another time. A ballerina who, though tired, is still wearing her tutu.

And I stop my own time, like the water of a lake.

I went into that wave and laughed for days, thinking back to the time when I was alone without having decided it; to the times when I wanted to find silence and could not; about the scattered friends revolving around me. While I look at the deep, the eloquent smile of his silent face is in harmony with me; his push is powerful, and every day I wake up and advance confidently, floating on the water, facing the Sun.

Now I travel in time, like seawater, with that uneasy motion I have chosen for myself.