Inefable.

Esta historia es una historia de manos, una historia de amor contada por dos bailarines. Érase una vez una pareja, ¿separada?. Érase una vez su his-toria de amor contada en...¿Cartas?. Érase una vez una mujer y un hombre que ¿Hablaban?. Hasta aquí todo parece bastante convencional. Añadamos que ella lo ve pero no lo escucha, él la oye pero no lo escucha.

Y ¿Qué pasa aquí? Dice el escritor: “Todas las historias son historias de ma- nos, manos que agarran, que sopesan, que señalan, que unen, que amasan, que enhebran, que acarician, manos abandonadas en el suelo, manos que cortan, que comen, que limpian, que tocan música, que rascan, que asen, que pelan, que se aferran, que aprietan un gatillo, que se cruzan”. Dicho esto, si todas las historias son historias de manos, hoy y ahora todas las historias están escritas con manos, pero estas manos no agarran, no sopesan, no señalan, no acarician, todas quizás son manos abandonadas, manos abandonadas que si, escriben; escriben historias, relatos y claro, escriben mensajes. Mensajes de amor, de odio, de alegría, de sueños rotos y cumplidos, de corazones solitarios escondidos que al final del día no encuentran como expresarse en la vida real, corazones que quieren salir a la calle y por qué no gritar todo aque- llo que cuentan con sus manos pero no son capaz de expresar ni con sus ojos, ni con sus palabras, corazones que creen que están rodeados pero al final del día están ahí, encerrados, desesperados y solos.

Esta es una historia convencional, escrita con manos. Esas manos que en vez de escribir textos, deciden acariciar, deciden responder, deciden expresar. Ella lo quiere, ¿si o no?; Ella lo lee pero no lo escucha cuando lo tiene en frente. Él le habla, le grita pero sin pronunciar palabra; le pide que lo escuche como solían escuchar en aquel tiempo donde las manos no contaban historias escritas si no reales. Él la quiere, le habla, lo intenta, lo intenta, se cansa, se enoja...porque sus manos no le hablan. Sus manos, solo le escriben. Ella lo ve, reacciona, le quiere hablar, le quiere expresar pero no entiende como contar una historia sin escribir, no entiende como responder a aque- llas manos con las mismas manos, el único idioma que conoce no le funciona; sus frecuencias no son las mismas, él no le contesta a sus textos, ella no le contesta a sus caricias.
Pero el cuerpo habla, te habla, te enseña. Él lo intenta. “hola”, “te oigo” “te amo” lo expresa, no lo dice, porque las palabras son insulsas, vacías; las palabras pueden mentir, el cuerpo no. El “me hablas” y te respondo es lo que es. Ella aprende a contestarle, él le responde, hablan, bailan, se mueven, es- criben una historia, de manos, de cuerpos, de amor, de tiempos pasados. Una historia que todos van a entender porque a pesar del tiempo que ha pasado este lenguaje no muere, es eterno, es infinito.

The dream that I dreamed

One night is a good night for our ghost; I dreamed a dream in which you were the main character, invisible as always, then I woke up and my lips were numb from saying your name; I looked into the mirror and I couldn't find myself in the reflection; I found your eyes glazing at mine, beautiful and bright, as always, talking to me about all the things that words can't say; speaking to me about places that you know and I don't; telling me stories about people that can teach you so many lessons, as you, as me. I opened my mouth to reply something but the only answer that I got was the silence, as always, because you are still invisible and blurry as a good dream; you are trapped as I am, we are trapped in a house big as memory, as our memories; we were together in that house,  I could hear you laughing but I couldn't find you; I only caught glimpses of you in the glass, indistinguishable, inexact, maybe unreal; that unbreakable and frail glass of my head and heart, that glass in which I only caught that image of you that which lived in my mind, that image that I created through thoughts, words, and, of course, memories that have traveled across the world just to prevent my memory of fading away. Then I looked into that mirror again and I saw your face gazing at me like trying to unscramble something but you didn't know what it was, trying to go more inside of me, deeper...and deeper...but you couldn't do it because you haven't even unscramble yourself; and there I was, as your reflection...could we figure it out what is inside of us? could we go deeper?. There're so many things that I shouldn't do but I do and you do; so many things that lead us to places that we don't know yet and we should know.

Your eyes, my eyes, our eyes, all of them are there going around and around, looking, finding, watching, thinking... you, invisible human being, have been an incredible teacher of life, you have taught me more things than those ones that you have ever thought; maybe is because of your reflection, because I see things of myself in you; things that I like and don't...good and bad things, about you, about me, me, us...and now I wonder: who stares at you when you see yourself in the mirror? have I taught you something?

Everyone teaches something that's why people come and go in our lives...

Me before you

There are so many feelings around the world which in some many levels can change your life; there are good feelings, bad feelings, unknown feelings, wonderful feelings and unexplicable feelings but there is not an accurate position in which you can put love; because love is a feeling that can be in all the categories above. Love itself is the feeling that changes your life the most;  actually love is the first feeling that every human being feels and love is the feeling which move your world upside down not just once, otherwise again and again.  

But, why this feeling can be in all the categories? The answer is easy and totally expected, love is a changing feeling. Sometimes it could be so good because you feel like there is no one in the world who can move your life in the way in which that person does; sometimes it could be bad because you just made a mistake when you were chosing; sometimes it could be unknown because you’re feeling it but you don’t understand it; sometimes it could be wonderful because there’s no other feeling which can put you to fly in a cloud and most of the time this feeling is totally unexplicable and irracional because you can’t answer when someone asks you why you feel the way you feel.  

However love is the kind of feeling that doesn’t come alone, love is always surrounded by hundreds of feelings; one of them and the most important one is the selfless.  it’s true that you should put yourself in the first place in your life; it’s true that you can’t be tied to someone else just because is the best for him or her; it’s true that you should think what is best for you but also it’s true that when you love, his happinness becomes yours, his tears come from your eyes and his pain is felt in the deepest part of your heart. Why? Because love is like that….and if love is like that the only thing that you can do when you are in love is to avoid at all costs the pain, the tears, the fear and the sad faces to your loved one.

Then we begin to ask  ourselves who we used to be before we felt in love; perhaps we used to be those kind of happy people who were always smiling, perhaps we used to be those kind who were always alone; perhaps we used to be those always angry and negative; perhaps we didn’t know who we used to be but abruptly we lost evertything in a pair of eyes which are glazing at you as you had met them before in a life which used to be yours but it’s not anymore; abruptly you decide that a smile can shine your life even if you are living in the middle of the darkest desert; abruptly you understand that his pain is hurting you as a knife in your chest; abruptly you find yourself entranced in some kind of spell that you didn’t know before; abruptly you realize that every single word makes perfect sense; abruptly you think that there’s no other life that you want to live than this one that you are living; abruptly you let yourself know that everthing that you used to know is about to change forever.

But one day and without any warning all your world is falling apart; all you knew as your life for a while is not anymore; all you used to be, to think and to feel, isn’t clear at all; all about who you are is a complete mess of broken pieces. Who I am? Who I want to be? Who I used to be? Do I like who I am now? Do I want to go back on time? Can I recover all the pieces of my broken heart? Can I stick them? Can I be who I used to be? Could I find my smile?....your mind is now an ocean of questions without answer; your heart is a puzzle without shapes; your smile is lost in some place in the middle of that sea of feelings; your tears finally find their way to going out; and your answers are hidden behind some clouds inside the sky of your head but your scence is still there and who you are is the same person who you used to be.

There will be always a before and after; there will  be always a you and me; there will be always an us somewhere; there will be always a road we already traveled; a chapter we already wrote; a book we already read and a movie we already stared; there will be always a story to tell about what we used to be, what we used to think or what we used to like; there will be always an I’m sorry that we never said or we said to late; there will be always a kiss that we never give, a final hug that we miss a lot and a caress that we will miss forever; there will be always a hidden I love you; there will be always a light in the end of the tunnel; there will be always a smile to share; there will be always a path to follow and without any doubt there will be always a new begining.

Nevertheless we will miss who we used to be before and with that person; nevertheless we are lost right now; nevertheless we are craving something that we used to have; nevertheless we want to stop right now; nevertheless there will always be a me before you.

To you….

"Je suis charlie"; Yo debería ser Colombia.

Es verdad que no soy de esas personas que escribe sobre temas de actualidad, política o, por qué no decirlo?, temas relevantes en general; pero también es verdad que este ha sido y seguirá siendo un espacio lleno de pensamientos y reflexiones. Y pues tendríamos que vivir en una cueva para que los hechos tan sonados y populares de esta semana no hayan traído a nuestras mentes un centenar de cavilaciones.

A pesar de que no soy de pensamientos idealistas, radicales, de derecha, de izquierda o como quieran llamarlo; no soy una persona de opiniones políticas o religiosas; no voy por la vida imponiendo mi pensamiento o gritando que creo; hoy vengo a expresar un punto de vista, no mi punto vista ante que ha estado bien o mal en cuanto a los ataques sucedidos en Francia en esta semana, tampoco mi posición acerca de si soy o no Charlie; simplemente estoy aquí para expresar un punto de vista visto desde los sentimientos. 

Y es que en estos tres días me he detenido a pensar no solo como ciudadana del mundo si no como Colombiana; y como Colombiana me he dado cuenta del desapego, el poco dolor de patria y el poco orgullo de ser Colombianos con el que nos hemos, o por lo menos yo me he criado o de algún modo me he formado a través de los años. Puede que tú que me estás leyendo pienses que tú si tienes el amor de patria y el apego del que estoy hablando y eso está muy bien; yo no vengo aquí a generalizar o a juzgar, simplemente siento que como Colombiana no siento ese dolor ni por mi patria, ni por mis compatriotas, siento que quizás con el paso del tiempo nos hemos hecho más indolentes y más indiferentes ante las cosas que les suceden a aquellas personas que deberíamos considerar nuestros hermanos por el solo hecho de llevar el mismo lugar de nacimiento, no solo en la cédula, si no también en las venas y en el corazón; nos hemos hecho indolentes e indiferentes porque se nos ha convertido en una rutina prender nuestro televisor y ver como masacran a la gente a diario sin que nadie haga nada y sin que nadie, de un modo u otro, sienta nada al respecto; nos hemos hecho un país indolente e indiferente porque entre nosotros, y aunque no lo hayamos dicho nunca en voz alta, prevalece la ley de la auto preservación: mientras yo y mi familia estemos bien, el mundo alrededor se puede caer a pedazos y poco y nada nos va a importar; siento, muy a mi pesar, que hemos olvidado que cada persona que vive en nuestro país es una parte de nosotros que debe doler y que debe importar, desde aquel niño huérfano que no tiene familia hasta aquel rico y poderoso que vive en una mansión, todos y cada uno de ellos nos deberían doler como si fuera un miembro de aquella familia que tanto nos esforzamos en preservar; pero en este ajetreo diario de matanzas, atentados y vandalismo aquel amor de patria que quizás alguna vez tuvimos o al menos tuvieron nuestros padres se ha ido quedando en ese mar de olvido donde también han quedado los nombres de las miles y miles de victimas que han perecido en esta guerra a la que llamamos país.

Es muy admirable ver como una nación

, como Francia, está unida en las peores circunstancias, ver como luchan por lo que son y lo que quieren, ver como defienden a sus compatriotas/hermanos como parte de su familia, ver como su tristeza por cada miembro de su "familia"/país es sincera, ver como les duele que atenten contra lo que ellos han creado como república, ver como se sienten orgullosos de ser quienes son y de venir de donde vienen. Yo no digo que no me siento orgullosa de mi país y de mis raíces porque de no ser por eso no sería quien soy, pero si digo firmemente que me encantaría sentirme como en familia cada vez que salgo a la calle y veo a algún compatriota, me encantaría sentir a cada una de las personas caminantes por esta ciudad caótica como parte de mi familia, me encantaría sentir ese orgullo para poder decir que somos una nación unida por y para nosotros, me encantaría sentirme segura, libre y feliz en el país en el que nací, me encantaría despertar una mañana y encontrar que estamos unidos porque nos duele algo o porque no nos gusta algo, me encantaría que así como hoy todos somos Charlie todos fuéramos Colombia. 

¿Qué cómo se siente el amor? Sí, exactamente así

¿Alguien sabe en realidad que es el amor? Yo dudo mucho que alguna persona sepa en realidad que es; algunos dicen que es química; otros que es apego; otros que no se sabe que es pero se siente rico; otros creen que el amor es dar la vida por alguien; otros que es algo que se demuestra con actos definitivos más no con palabras; otros que es conocer, querer, aceptar y luego amar; otros dicen que el amor es un sentimiento que te hace vulnerable sin darte cuenta; otros que es reinventarse todos los días para la otra persona y otros que es una mezcla de sentimientos.
Para mí el amor son todas esas cosas envueltas en un paquete lleno de sueños; es magia; es fuerza; es apoyo; es algo que se queda plasmado a pesar de todo y de todos; algo que sobrevive a las adversidades y te ayuda a sobrevivir; es eso que te devuelve el aliento cuando ya no te alcanza; es algo que te orienta en el camino cuando te pierdes; es aquello que te permite ver los colores en el cielo cuando está completamente nublado; es aquello que te permite ver la magia en el mundo real; es aquello que te permite valorar y disfrutar tu entorno; es aquello que te llena de esperanzas, ilusiones y sueños y por último es aquello que te lleva a un lugar desconocido y te devuelve en un minuto. Amor es aquello que nace en la tierra infértil y crece a pesar de la sequía. 
Ah! pero la pregunta era: qué cómo se siente? Pues se siente así, exactamente así como te sentiste está mañana al despertarte y ver su rostro; así como te sentiste anoche cuando te dijo buenas noches; así como cuando te tocó por primera vez y supiste que todo estaba perdido; así como cuando todo tu mundo se derrite con solo una mirada; así, exactamente así como no puedes explicarlo; porque el amor se siente no se explica. 

City of Angels

"City of angels", the first time that I heard that "nickname" the first thing that came to my mind, besides the song which now looks like the soundtrack of my life, was that movie from some years ago which takes place in this wonderful city and which shows us how this is full of angels; full of angels as my life; full of angels as this written.

And it's so weird to think about "Los Angeles" without angels because each time that the memories invade me, they don't come just with those blue skies, those sunsets, those palmtrees, those seagulls, those beaches, those streets, that Hollywood sign which looms in the distance, those stars on the boulevard full of dreams or that city full of bright; the memories invade me also with the eyes of those who today are considered as the angels that come to my life.

Perharps for you or for the majority of the people could be odd or a little bit excessive to call someone angel, but in the way how I see it, an angel is that person full of bright and light who makes you feel like in home; who makes you and allows you to be who you really are; who protects you; who brithens up your life with his own presence; who teaches you; and the most important thing, is someone who conects you with the soul of the universe because he fills you with love. Thanks God I can pressume about all the angels that I have in my life; however today I want to pressume the angels who came to me in the city of angels.

Because it's true there were a lot of people who came and left; a lot of angels who come to bring a little bit of their light; as well as a lot of them are not here anymore. It may sound bizarre considering the short time that we spent in that city together; but sometimes the most important people in your life appear, like that, in short time and in the less expected place. You can call it as you want: coincidence, chance, luck, destiny or simply you can call it as something that it was meant to be; nevertheless let's call what you call it will be always a wonderful silver lining that comes without wait it.

Sometimes I think about which can be the reason that makes you crave for those people or that place; which can be the reason that makes you feel close to the people who were strangers for you just months ago; which can be the reason that made you give them a part of you; which can be the reason why you feel that you know them since forever; which can be the reason why even now and being so far away you feel them so close; which can be the reason to call them friends or in my case "angels"; whichever can be the reason; maybe the reason doesn't exist or maybe that reason is not coherent or rational because the standars of our society which tell us that a friend is someone that you know during years; I should say that for me, and considering that I'm not rational at all, the reason is that some divine hand, which wrote all in the universe, took over everything and collected some lost pieces from around the world and put them together in the same puzzle call it dream, call it: "city of angels".

"City of angels" that has a hundred of bewitching places which can take us back to a moment, to a gaze, to a smile, to a word, to a song, to a hug, to a dream, to a tear, to a sensation, to a feeling, to a laugh, to a lesson, to a story, to a special day, to a sunny day, to a fight, to a last word, to a last look, to an ilusion and to a promise that was kept at infinity; bewitching places in which our essences and our memories were recorded; bewitching places which could write the chronic of our dream and our adventure; bewitching places that can be a café (restaurant) across the street; a beach in Hermosa or Redondo; a supermarket near to you; a sofa on the lounge or on an apartment; a lonely parking lot (not that lonely in the break); a mexican, japonais, chinois or italian restaurant; a place in hawthorne and pacific coast; a subway; a corner bakery; a pancake house or simply a classroon in the building that became our second house; bewitching places which can seem so simple but which inclose anecdotes, comments and tales of the story that today can be written; bewitching places which have seen the angels come and go undeterred by their presences.

And althought we came from different countries; we have different cultures; we speak different languages; we have different ways of thinking; we have different ages or different experiences; we are and we always have been one heart beating for the same dream in the same city; we are an incredible coincidence in a small group.

I really would love to talk about each one of the angels that have been crossed by my side but the pages are not enough eternal and the words are not enough extensive; but in spite of the fact that my heart is distributed by many countries; if I stop to think, the 3 biggest pieces are the ones that I long for the most.

3 pieces of my heart that speak 3 languages; 3 pieces of my heart that have different names, different personalities and dreams; 3 pieces of my heart that stayed as the angels of my city of angels; 3 pieces of my heart that have 3 different pair of eyes; 3 pieces of my heart that teach me everyday the meaning of a sincere and truly "I miss you"; 3 pieces of my heart that I'm missing and that connect me with 3 different versions of myself.

It can be that piece with those pair of blue feline eyes; those eyes which reflect tenacity, priorities, an inner child who can be a great man, a brillian and hopefull future, an intelligence to decide and go after what you dream, determination an valor; those pair of eyes which reflect the dreams fullfilled and how far you are going to get. It can be that piece with those big light spoty brown eyes which show me the sweet size of the life (sweetness as the chocolate), which project a kind of innocence. which allow you to see a dreamer, determinated, confuse, smart and different guy; those pair of eyes which stay the dream in the middle of the dream. Or it can be that piece with those dark deep brown eyes which have a magneto that attracts you and that makes you want to know more; which hide that misterious, sensitive and interesting human being with many qualities; which show you the funniest and gayer side of the life; which will surprise you with how much they captivate and how easy is to immerse yourself into them to get to the bottom of that amazing human being that is hidden with great care; those pair of eyes which make you feel like in family and in home.

These are the 3 angels which have the 3 biggest pieces of my heart; these 3 angels full of qualities, light, emotions and love; these 3 angels that have a different parts of my heart and my soul; these 3 angels which have crossed barriers and which taught me how to find a conexion through the ocean and the distance; these 3 angels which know with certainty that it doesn't matter where we are or what can happen they're always gonna have that part of me and that inconditional support; these 3 angels which show me their different ways to see and to face the life; these 3 angels for which I keep hugs that cross and cover cities; these 3 angels which I'm gonna miss forever; these 3 angels which are my family on another continent; these 3 angels which made of  "Los Angeles" my "City of angels".

"I miss you" is like a sigh.

Does it exist more sincere words than "I miss you"?
"I miss you" is exactly like a sigh; "I miss you" is something that you feel and which expresses something else that is inside of you; "I miss you" is like a sigh because a sigh is the air that you lose because the absence of someone; "I miss you" is a hidden "I love you". "I miss you" is me sighing for you.
However,what is exactly "that" which I miss? It could be your words; your presence; your smile; your lips; your hair; your voice; your laugh; your hands; your smirk; your teasing; your humor; your weird faces; the way you walk; the way you say my name; they way you look; the way you talk; your singing; your dance; your body....you, in all your essence?
But, what is all of this? This could be just a heart talking; this could be you being you; this could be a sincere human being trying to explain him/herself; this could be the deep of your gist; this could be a mind realizing how important and meaningful can be one person or several people in your daily life.
Friends, family, boyfriends, girlfriends, bestfriends, soulmates; it doesn't matter how you call them or in which category are they; they are people who change your way of thinking, your vision of the world and your life forever. Those people are the ones who stay with you no matter what happen or no matter how amount of water you have between you; those are the ones who break distances; walls and masks; those are the ones who make you who you really are and bring out all of that which is inside of your heart; those are the ones who make you laugh at loud even when you want to cry; those are the ones who can sing, can ignore you, can be silly, can be jerks, can be nice and can be bad but above all you love them because you never idealized them; those are the ones that you truly love for who they are.
Suddenly hours become days; days become months; months become years and years become and infinity for you without seeing them; without talking to them; without knowing how their lives are: without having them in your quotidian life then you have dreams in which you hear their voices, their laughs, their jokes; their meaningless; dreams where you see their faces, their eyes, their gestures, themselves; and so you wake up whishing that your reality would be the same and thinking when is gonna be the day when you could have all of that which you dreamt about again in your life like a dream comes true.

All of this is a sigh because a sigh is an "I miss you".