Hoy

 Un nuevo día con mucho trabajo. Y en ello estamos. 

Hoy por la noche

Tengo los ojos cansados de tanta pantalla. Tengo el corazón arrebolado por la atención de gente que quiere saber más de mí, y eso es bonito. 

Love, as it were

Please, break it down to me once more so I get to understand what you mean by that. What you felt as I stroke the air that wrapped around you on the dance floor.

So, please, do me a favour. Explain what you said; no, you don’t have to repeat the same sentence again, I remember it well, just explain it to me. Unfold its meaning. I can’t gel with you until you do. 

It’s just a feeling, but I think we will get to know each other, we will, my darling.

No, I didn’t hear the phone ring. I hasn’t rung all week … Perhaps you tried to call but in the end you didn’t, is that it? I do recall well. I do. Listen, I was standing by the phone for hours, then I moved it next to my bedside, and later on that day I danced to a jazz tune embraced by the handset cable. I know you didn’t call. I was expecting you, but now you are here and you are ready, and it's all that matters. 

Love is strange. People talk about love, and I listen. 

Some instants are at times so willingly sincere. 

I would repeat the painful experiences of that journey again if I was able to retrieve the images, the purposefulness, the blossoming of something authentic and pure, terse and blissful, the first time tasting the delightful, brief unmissable essence of love, which wasn't in itself (love wasn't) perfect nor pure, just the dazzle of finally reaching that stage when you are ready to pour yourself in it, and it just floods you.

I ache because I miss you, and I'm allowed to miss you without wanting you because I love you all the same. You are a dream that I live every day and never chase, because you dream me too. 

I cannot create anything but quick misunderstandings and 
weak seeds of hope at the remembrance of you

Some dimensions of you belong to me
I'm trying to meet my expectations with extraordinary impulsiveness

With Actions that flow over actions as in a stream of non relatedness

We are not convinced that this is what we want

As we are innocent we move with disarray upon the uncertainties

Eventually we'll go back and meet with each other diagonally. In the moment of truth and exhalation a dull pain increasingly grows bursting in my heart. This is it, I regard you as other and lose you in my imperfect calculations ...

Tonight

He estado pensando en el orden en el que debo movilizar mis impulsos, mi tiempo y mi energía en los espacios adecuados.