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¿es primavera en china?
03:02
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Is it Spring in China?
There are so many small parts, so many isolated House, the girl friend who has chosen to shut up, our parents who we haven’t visited yet, the decisions some are waiting to take, being afraid of your departure, the imminence of the month of May, Autumn’s splendor, the heater I don’t want to turn on, the false poets, your solidarity, the long list of claims and demands, and to wait for Spring as an industrious job that we will have to negotiate, to concede
close your eyes
I don’t remember what I was doing before this
close your eyes. how many Sundays have passed?
I don’t remember what I was doing before this
light diminishes as I write, the blackout, the critical hour. I get ready with all the lights in the house turned on as if in this way isolation fought against the CFLs, the Santeria candle, the tilting light of the radio, my critical hour was today, you say, right after having cleaned all the rooms in the house, having dumped in bags everything that accumulates in free consumption times, this morning, with nothing else to do, the critical hour. You who every night sit in your couch to talk with friends and play on line, now that you were brought here just in case, every night the critical hour. You tell me that when all this began you woke up at 3 a.m. affected and did things, but insomniac is like that, in the middle of the night, you got worried, despite you tried to find a rhythm. we talk over the phone yesterday during the critical hour., city of Buenos Aires, rear façade balcony, closed terrace, your late critical hour. yours as well, when you take the bikeway after work. hasn’t she identify her hour yet and he covers everything he has in his house and them are obliged to stop the sales or he who was gluing bricks, the other guy who keeps downtown parks, she who babysits someone else’s kids and cleans their stuff and some secret desires, also all of them together in the neighborhood talking and listening to music, checking over what they will woo, which opportunities are left from the parts of our critical hours
oil tankers sail. floating deposits, temporary storage facilities cruise the pandemic seas. here, in Vaca Muerta, have they left yet, are they leaving yet? oil is negatively appraised on this 2020 Tuesday below freezing oil
what can be poeticized now in the rhythm of the borders that turn themselves inside-out. extensions of moving territories of repatriates and expatriates and between both your own territory
we have all the time in the world.
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