To my mother...

Because there is no more dialogue between us,
and I'm not sure there ever was....
Because it was only a few times
I could talk WITH you about us,
Because you don't know how to listen,
really listen,
I choose to speak to you this way.
I choose to write what I feel
simply
as a memoir...

I'm not sure why,
but you keep repeating how much I hate you.
Hate?
I don't know what that means...
I don't know what that feels like...
It's not even a word in my vocabulary,
but you use it too much
to describe what you
don't seem to understand.

Pain,
that is what I feel...
Because you have trespassed all the limits
and continue to put the weight on me.
You say you miss our talks.
I miss them too.
But I want to be clear,
this was YOUR decision.
My distance was a reaction to your attitude.
And even when I warned you that this would happen,
you continued to act in a way I found extremely harmful.
I guess I have enabled you to do this,
all my life...
You just got used to my patience.

But things have changed now.
I have learned.
If it victimizes you to think that I hate you,
you may think whatever you please.
I will not justify myself, or feel pity for the both of us.
You speak of forgiveness...
I have tried HARD,
all my life
to forgive you.
Maybe I still can't,
for all the THINGS you've done,
that you seem to ignore.

Maybe this is why I need the distance.
Not to hate you,
but to forgive you.
And to forgive myself for having allowed you,
all these years,
to put so much weight on my shoulders.
Cause you never seem to take responsibility for your actions,
but you make others responsible.
That, I don't need.

When you speak of hate
it shows how little you know me,
and if it's true that we had so many laughs and talks and walks,
you should know better,
I do not know what hate means...

This is what I wrote to you on Feb 16, at 2.30pm.
That day you decided what it would be...

Mamá,
tu dolor me produce dolor.
Tu dolor me produce angustia porque quiero ayudarte, quiero amarte.
Pero siento que ya no puedo.
Que amarte me resulta doloroso...
Siento que el tiempo pasa y te pones peor,
mientras yo, me siento cada vez mejor.
Y voy llenando mi vida de amor, todos los días.
Quiero convidarte ese amor,
quiero compartirlo,
que lo sientas.
Quiero compartir con vos la dicha de vivir.
La luz que ilumina nuestras vidas.
Pero ya no puedo,
siento que tu ser apaga mi luz.
Quizá mi luz, no sea tan fuerte todavía.
Pero necesito protegerla,
Necesito llenarla de amor para que crezca...
y al lado tuyo no puedo.
Ocupandome de vos,
me agoto...
Termino exhausta...
Ya no puedo amarte.
O por lo menos expresar mi amor.
ya no puedo hacerme cargo de tu bienestar mamá.
Porque siento que sin importar lo que haga,
no encuentro la forma de aceptar tu manera de ser;
ni que vos puedas recibir mi amor,
porque no lo ves.
Tu dolor te ciega,
te hace incapaz de recibir,
porque te hace incapaz de dar.
Lo que pasó hoy me duele.
Duele como una daga en el pecho,
como un puñal en el corazón,
porque ahí es donde te llevo,
ahí es donde existo,
donde acumulo amor.
Tu actitud me perfora,
me hace perder la cabeza.
Me vuelvo chiquitita, insignificante y oscura.
Quizá con el tiempo pueda hacer que mi amor sea mas fuerte que tu oscuridad.
Pero por ahora,
ya no puedo,
ya no quiero,
definitivamente no necesito
tu dolor.

Te amo,
por siempre,
porque nunca dejaras de ser parte de mi,
porque soy parte tuya...

Waking life...

And now I'm awake...

After trying hard to get you to tell me who I am.
After obsessing over my feelings.
After letting my drunkenness speak for me,
in times where desperation was my only companion.
Now I'm finally awake.
No more lies to myself,
no more illusions,
suppositions,
preconceptions
and confusions.

I'm awake from a long dream.
I can't remember the story,
just how it felt...
deep and long;
mischievous;
a collection of assumptions
that never led me to a better place.
Now I'm done with this fantasy.
I thank you for the good times,
for the moments we shared;
which were always quite pure.

I'm awake,
my eyes are fully opened.
What did I dream of?
I dreamt that I could steal your heart,
that I could dwell in your incomprehensible passionate being.
I dreamt that you would give me all the answers.
I saw myself,
reflected in you...

But now,
fully awake,
I understand
that your heart will never tell me
how it feels to be inside mine.
I understand
that I've expected to much from you.
I was waiting for you to explain who I am.
I've asked from you,
to define what doesn't have a name.
I'm sorry for being selfish.
Forgive it.
Forget me.
I will be the one to remember us...

Dame un momento

No encuentro palabras para decirlo,
y a veces siento
que el pensamiento
es un idioma de signos... sin sentido.

No siempre entiendo que sucede conmigo.
Zarandeandome voy,
hasta que caigo
terriblemente borracha.

Tan solo dejáme estar
un momento a solas.

Tan solo dejáme en paz,
este intervalo de tiempo,
que siempre he estado perdiendo.

Quizás en este precioso momento
pueda ser como tu.
Como tu,
como tu,
como tu...

Prefiero explotar de tanto alcohol,
con tu jarabe de flor venenosa.
Y vender a una madre
por otra copa.

Tan solo dejáme estar
un momento a solas.

Tan solo dejáme en paz,
este intervalo de tiempo,
que siempre he estado perdiendo.

Quizás en este precioso momento
pueda ser COMO TU...

(Heroes del Silencio)

To the one and to all of them

Cause I know my heart is huge...
Cause I am constantly falling in and out of love...
Cause I love to fall in love with love...

For those to whom I gave my heart...
For the one I'm giving my heart to today...
For all the ones I will forever love...

This poem is to the one and all of them...


Sombras (original)
-English version follows-

Sombras somos. Solo sombras.
Agua de mar, salada como tu corazón analítico.
Te pienso, te olvido.
Mi corazón se oscurece cuando solo quiero poseerte.
Sombras en la pared.
Me agota el pensamiento,
me desnutre tu ausencia.
Decime que sí,
que me querés.
Dejame entender lo egoísta que soy cada vez que te pienso.
Dejame descubrirte mientras encuentro refugio entre tus brazos.
Acaso no me sentís temblar?
Acaso no me escuchas pensarte con los ojos cerrados?
Necesito tu contacto.
Tengo hambre de tu piel.
Quiero un poco de tu amplia boca,
porque de tus labios tengo sed.
Dejame endulzarte el corazón.
Dejá que mi luz refleje tu sonrisa en mi sangre.
Quiero fluir con vos,
quiero perderme en tu cuerpo mientras nos hacemos el amor.
Quiero amarte, sentirte, tocarte, mimarte.
Quiero olvidarte y recordarte mil veces.
Quiero que tus besos se sequen en mis mejillas,
húmedas de llorarte.
Tanto te quiero,
tanto te deseo,
que me ahogo en mis sombras...
Como hago para sentirte sin sofocarte?
Como logro que nuestro amor sea siempre un milagro?
Tu alma que me llena y me desviste,
a veces me hace sombra.
Quiero darte placer,
Quiero amarte como nadie y como todas a la misma vez.
Dejame...
Dejame ser tu piel,
aunque sea solo por un instante.
Si tan solo pudiera fundirme en vos,
prometo dejarte ir cuando lo sea necesario...


Shadows (English version)

Shadows, that is what we are. Only shadows.
Sea water,
salty like your analytical heart.
I think of you, I let you go.
My heart becomes dark when all I want is to posses you.
Shadows on the wall.
To think makes me tired.
Your abscence, denourishes me.
Say yes,
say that you love me.
Allow me to understand how selfish I get each time I think of you.
Allow me to discover you while I find shelter amongst your arms.
Don't you feel me trembling?
Don't you hear me thinking of you when you close your eyes?
I need your touch.
I am hungry for your skin.
I want some of your plentifull mouth,
because I'm thirsty for your lips.
Let me make your heart sweeter.
Let my light reflect your smile upon my blood.
I want to flow with you,
I want to get lost in your body while we make love to each other.
I want to love you, feel you, touch you and caress you.
I want to forget about you and remember you a thousand times.
I want your kisses to dry up on my cheeks,
wet from crying for you.
This much I want you,
So much I desire you,
that I loose myself in my own shadows...
How can I feel you without soffocating you?
How do I make our love to be forever a miracle?
Your soul completes me while it uncovers my own,
sometimes your soul becomes my shadow.
I want to pleasure you,
I want to love you like no one else.
I want to love you like all of them at the same time.
Let me...
Let me be your skin,
if only for an instant.
If only I could melt in you,
I promise to let you go when necessary...

Strange what desire can make foolish people do

April 11th, 22:15hs - At the hostel in Bodensee

A bit drunk, with the two boys -Aldo and Joonas- writing pieces of what I hear and filling the blanks with my own thought process:

So, is there anybody in here?
He sneezes as the other sips his rum.
-Coke- he asks.
-In your nose- he replies coldly.
I hate it, I hate it.
This is worse than the Mexican!
The coke goes in...
Pouring me, pouring you...
Bad luck!
Then he burps twice to keep the peace.
-May I put some orange juice? he asks shyly.
But he's definitely not embarrassed to put his dirty finger in my cup.
Lime, lemons and shlampes.
You already know that something really mean will happen to those nasty grannies...
Die shlampe und die fatze.
Is like mushy but worse.
Your woman is silent.
Today is the 11th, my cumplemes.
It's Okay. Everything will be O.K.
I would like to show you,
would you like to see?
Across the road there is a bad place.
But here,
there's nothing.
Here, there, something might exist.
As of now, is just a simple "WHY NOT?"

PS: Shut your PS!!!

A deluge of sensations

April 4th, 19:20hs - Sitting outside, at Pub Saint Jacques or Polly Magoo

There are so many experiences lived, so many moments, people, places. I'm not sure where to start. I am now having a beer at this funky Arabic bar, sitting on a table outside. I have been walking for the last 40 minutes, along a busy peatonal full of bars, restaurants, shops, smells, sounds, languages. This particular pub is located somewhere near a busy street, but at least not as hectic; which makes it perfect for writing. To my right, the Seine. To my left, Notre Dame peaks curiously behind some random buildings. The temperature outside is almost perfect and I am in the perfect mood. Gloria Stefan is being played at some near by bar, which is kind of odd, but somehow adds to the whole scene.

There is so much going on that it actually takes a big effort to stay grounded and not want to be everywhere at the same time. I tell myself to breathe, to let as much as I can in, even when it might get to be overwhelming. Again, I find myself running short of words to express all that I'm feeling. It's a combination of wholeness, fascination, happiness and enjoyment. My two cameras have run out of batteries, which gives me the perfect excuse to absorb every little detail I possibly can, without the lens as a divider between me and the experience.

I just came from LaChapelle's exhibition at "La Monnaie de Paris". I have been talking about him for the past two weeks and, conveniently enough, I get to see his work live in Paris. I have to say it was moving. I never imagined that one of his photographs could make me tear up. He's more of a "pop photographer" playing around with a bunch of famous people and an extravagant use of colour. Nevertheless, I love his imagination. But this exhibition was a bit different form what I've seen so far. Destruction, sorrow, pain, flood, wars, blood and the Holy Spirit. Two of his photographs impacted me the most: La Pieta and Deluge.

La Pieta portrays Courtney Love holding Kurt Cobain in her arms. Pills, blood and a halo. She honestly looks like a Saint, holding her lost loved one. The image imitates Michelangelo's sculpture of Mary holding Jesus after his cruxifiction. In LaChapelle's version, Cobain has the same stigmata as Jesus Christ, but also his arms are covered with open wounds, inflicted by heroin abuse. On the foreground, a child piles up letter cubes that spell "Heaven to Hell". It's amazing how much can be said with just one image... sometimes it's more than words.

Deluge is the representation of a big flood in modern times. We are like animals, floating amongst Gucci and Burger King destroyed signs. In a desperate attempt to survive as species, we hold on to whatever is still floating. Lamp posts, garbage, neon signs, expensive cars and other people. An apocalyptic image full of pain, sorrow and desperation. And it felt too real to me.

From the same series as Deluge, a photograph of a flooded museum. Half drawn, half surviving. The ruined sculpture on the center, seems to be alive... breathing anguish... holding on...History has been flooded, it has drawn, it has been forgotten. All is gone and we are just frightened animals trying to hold on to our fragile lives.

But to change the tone of the writing, let me tell you about another "odd" occurrence. Today, as I waited in the line to go up the Eiffel tower, I wondered if celebrities would get special treatment to avoid all the people. I imagined how it would be like to walk around Paris being famous, going to touristic attractions and so on. I know, what a stupid thing to wonder. But I admit it, I'm not always thinking about profound things, sometimes I let my mind be entertained with these kind of thoughts. Is like watching reality shows... Anyhow, why do I mention this? Well, it happened a couple of hours later. It wasn't Gael Garcia Bernal as I could have hoped for, but they were "famous" nevertheless. When I was at LaChapelle's exhibition, I met with two Argentinian actresses...

It's not that I thought "How cool to see so and so..." -I don't even remember their names- What is worth mentioning is the fact that I actually THOUGHT about it earlier. The more present I become, these kind of "coincidences" are becoming more and more frequent. Like yesterday, for example. Having lunch with Marcel, outside a small organic store, I was looking at the cheese on the window and I said to him that I wanted to try some of it, because it looked sehr gut. Ten minutes later, the owner of the store comes out with a small plate of different samples... I'm really happy Marcel was there to witness what I constantly experience, if not I could begin to think that I'm going crazy. Really, this stuff is happening more and more... Breathe, smile, be present and everything that you need will find a way to get to you. It's fantastic! if you allow it, it will happen...

Speaking of fantastic, I went up the Eiffel tower today... That was also amazing. I spent 5 hours up there. One and a half hour in the lineup and the rest taking pictures and chatting with a guy I met up there. The only time I wished I wasn't travelling alone, it was when I wanted a photograph of myself looking down at Paris... Of course I found a way to do it by myself, as always, but it could have been nice to share that with someone. I finding myself doing more and more things on my own and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or not, but as time goes by, I become less and less dependant on people. I have become -or have always been- this independent creature who could very well survived if left alone. But emotionally, ufff... I need people like there is no tomorrow. And this is what I love about travelling alone: I do whatever I want, I go wherever I please and when I need some human "contact", I just meet people. And I usually meet cool people, if only for a brief moment. And travellers are usually very cool, except for the guy who tried to kiss me on my first night in Paris... Yes, I forgot to mention it... but it's just a funny anecdote about which I may or may not want to write later.

One last "weird" story to finish. Last night I was invited for dinner at Marcel's Canadian friend's house, Marie. Observing her interaction with her boyfriend, with whom she lives, made me think of my golden times with Ignacio. I thought of those times, living under the same roof with the person I loved. It wasn't me anymore, it was us. I haven't had that feeling in ages. I haven't thought of him in that way till yesterday. I actually missed cooking with him, being a couple, working as a team. This morning at the hostel, I saw a guy that looked EXACTLY like him. And I'm not exaggerating... except for some facial details, this guy looked very much like my ex-boyfriend, and he decided to appear in my life just after I thought of him. During breakfast, he sat next to me and we talked. He was from Argentina and his mom from the same Italian city as my ex mother-in-law... No comments... I never could have imagined I would spend a whole day walking in Paris with a clone of my ex. Same hands, same gestures, same jokes... if anyone wishes to see, I have pictures to prove I'm not making this up. It happened...

I just finished my beer and it's getting cold for me to sit outside. I think I wrote enough for the day. Tomorrow I have a few hours left in Paris, but I'm sure that I will live many adventures. Thank you life for being so good to me, even when I give you for granted... even when I seem to not appreciate you enough. Even during those times of apparent indifference, you always remind me how joyful you can be!

Singing my joy out

April 3rd, 16:35hs - On the Subway...

Another day in Paris. Wake up, breakfast. The reception guy offers me some of his pastries "cause you are a nice girl", he says. I was given a rose by a stranger last night, with the same pretext and it feels nice when people say that to you. Maybe it is because I feel good again, as I have made peace with myself again. I feel like I'm glowing... I feel full of joy... I can enjoy the simple things once again.

After breakfast I found my way to the hostel where Marcel is staying and where I'll stay for the remaining of the trip. After leaving my suitcase, I walked into an used bookstore to see if I could get someone to help me find "Palais de Tokio" on the map. I seat outside, focus for a moment and try to decide if I should walk or take the metro. I'm still no sure where I'm going and it's a bit complicated to figure out on the map witch route to take. As I concentrate on what to do next, I get a txt message from Marcel with directions to the museum. How cool is that??? You just need to ask for it. If it is what you need, the Universe will make sure you get it...

Once I get to the subway, I see a woman standing at the bottom of the stairs with a baby wagon. She was standing there, looking up and singing quietly. I offered her my help to carry the thing upstairs and I find out she's actually taking the same line as I am (out of six different ones) In the metro we talked and she told me she was happy because she received her residence permit today. I honestly felt hey joy in my heart, her singing was a boost of energy. And her baby, oh my God!! simply beautiful... Those eyes, staring at my soul... it's hard to put in a sentence what cannot be described with words... I was hypnotized... I was so touched by the baby's eyes that I couldn't help but crying out my joy...

Paris, here I am!

April 2nd, 23:20hs - Sitting at Cafe El Rey...

Aca estoy en Paris... OOH LA LA!!!
Except for the French, I feel like I'm in Buenos Aires. It's kind of weird... From Canada to Germany and then to France, but I feel like I am where I started.

This is so beautiful!! I feel alive again!!! To finally be myself again. I really needed this and it couldn't have happened at a better time. It was now that I needed this space. i was beginning to feel claustrophobic inside my own head. Finally, no more thinking, no more over analyzing... Just walk, observe, learn... The last couple of days I consumed myself. I know that 75% of it was due to "that time of the month" and the hormones seem to control every bit of me. But I should not allow it to affect me THIS much. Now that it has passed, I can't really understand what the big deal was.

Funny thing... that last sentence made me think. I now realize that I created so much drama to myself, for no apparent reason. Why does getting the period fucks me up so much? I know that there must be an underlying issue, something that get's trigger every time my estrogen levels increase... but how I manage to make the feeling so intense, is still a mystery to me. I feel sorry for those around me during this time of the month. I believe that there's no need to involve so many people with my menstrual psychosis, even when doing so takes the load off my back of having to tolerate myself...

I'm here. The drama is now over, I'm happy and satisfied once more. I'm having an expresso and a "tarte aus pommes"... yes, that's my new language: frenchodoitch. I keep mixing the little German I know in all of my French sentences... It's hillarious! Ich m'appelle was? I get stuck suddenly and can't even speak Spanish. But it's part of the experience. I'm trying to train my brain to communicate in French, because I'm in Paris, when I just spent a whole month getting it to adapt to the German language. The poor thing is really confused...

Awww, this is so beautiful... I'm looking at the people who pass me by -I'm sitting outside. I'm a silent observer. A couple of hours ago, I went for a walk along the Seine River and all I did was observe what was going on around me, like a little kid, curious about every detail... hungry for more... I saw many couples, lots of young people, street musicians, boats, lights and turists. And watching it all, there it was... the most impressive Notre Dame. I have seen it in photographs, in art history books. I have seen it in postcards, in movies. I have read, heard and seen a lot of it, and for the first time, I was standing in front of it. There it was... right in front of my eyes. Mesmerizing, impressive, omnipotent... impossing itself over my humble being; because right there, I couldn't feel anything but humble. I couldn't have been more thankful. Thankful for the view, for my romantic dinner at "La Pirada", which now I realize it was the perfect place for me to seat and enjoy a dinner with myself in Paris. "La Pirada" -the crazy one in Spanish... HOW PERFECT! Like everything else. Once I get back to being "in tune", syncronizations are inevitable. Sometimes it feels like my life and the timing of events is actually being directed by some AMAZING, creative and talented director...

This chapter began on the train to Paris, just looking out the window, the landscape became my travcel companion. When I arrived to the station, Marcel was waiting for me, which I find a very nice gesture for someone who hardly knows me. He then came with me to my hostel, where I was greeted by a Spanish guy who made me a nice handwritten sign: Argentina 1 - Bolivia 6. Aghhhh!! But I loved the sense of humor, nevertheless... After leaving my back pack in the creepy locker room, Marcel and I went to his hostel to check if my reservation for the following two nights had gone through. Well... it had not. Luckily, they had one room left. Number one!

All right, here we go again. As I write his name, Marcel shows up... yes, I haven't had the chance to finish the story, so that my surprise to see him crossing the street at this very moment, makes sense... Around 8pm, after all the paperwork and a quick appetizer, we both went different ways. It's now 1am and as I write his name, I see him crossing the street in this direction... No, we haven't arranged to meet. And no, he doesn't know I'm here... It's just a "coincidence", which proves what I mentioned before... This is exactly what I mean when I write about PERFECT TIMING...

It's only temporary

April 2nd, 13:00hs - On the train, on my way to Paris...

Time passes, things change. Some people go, some stay. You get to know your friends, you also make new ones; but at the end, everything is temporary. Life is like a dream. You are a participant, you are the observer. When you think you have it all figured out, you realize that nothing is what seems. All of a sudden you have more than a crash with your closest friend and the one you had the crash on, is suddenly the one you can talk to...

Yes, everything changes, but for a reason. There's always the cause and effect factor and everything is so intrinsically interconnected that it becomes hard to tell what's cause and what's effect. The mission appears to be to figure it out, but the more you try to understand with your mind, the more confused you seem to get. One day, you feel you want to break free from your thoughts. That one day you feel so trapped, so miserable... but an Angel comes to find you, because she needs you to listen. So you give her your heart and soul, you shed your tears just feeling what she feels. You become her and forget your confused mind, if only temporarily, if only for a brief moment. And that moment feels like the return to eternity.

But eternity is only now, and you begin to think once again. It was not the kiss, it was before that. It was in between dreams. At some point you woke up and everything just unfolded the way it had to. So you give your heart out to this Angel, who is a bit more confused than you are. You give her a hug, you embrace her with her with a simple smile, with a tear, with your soul. Slowly, all things begin to recover their shape; senses return. They never actually left you, you just decided to dwell in your emotions so much that you ignored them. But you can't completely ignore what it is... When you have opened your eyes, once you learn to really see, to close them is just plain stupidity. Is like making the choice to be blind. And I get so lost in stupidity. Sometimes I close my eyes to the point where I lose track of myself. I can no longer find the ground, sense my center or distinguish between my own facts and myths.

Thankfully, there's always an Angel who comes to remind me that I can never loose my essence, that what it is is what it is. There is always someone who, in my loneliest times, will need a bit of my heart...