My head spins like someone who has just come out of a rough swing, from a violent brake amidst the chaotic traffic of the capital. Nobody pays attention to how much they see. We liquidate the waits in immense pieces of hope that only make time run out. Sad fate of waiting for late love, the rehearsal without a script. As difficult as it is, at some point it will be necessary to leave the doomed existence of being who one is to understand the perils of wanting to continue being what one did not choose to be. We change the lens to configure the new gaps and emancipate new attempts. Giving up on love is palliative, but effective in certain occasions. New sufferings, then.
The allegory that saudade embodies seems to me to be the transcendence of a plan that will never be real. Wanting someone close and not being able to experience their presence goes through the chest like a crumpled shrapnel that shoots. The pain of lack is assuaged with remembrance – which so often seems to breathe the scent of absence. The affectionate illusion of a known affection and a voice that brings peace. Although it messes up all the normality that used to exist, it doesn't lose the sense of being simply because it reconfigures being in this new sense. A game of words in disbelief because of the ability that certain people have to circumvent our abysses and take up residence in the most embarrassed interstices of our existence.
When serving coffee in the morning, I insist on the highest temperature. I hope, as I leave, for the strong wind and the sun that marks. I was never half-measures. I don't like to start if it's not with the head, body and life. All surrender, to be real, must come from within. When the guts show any hint of interference, I recommend that we listen and allow ourselves. I always choose to arrive, because I know that I can bear, if I have to, the pain of departure, but I will never learn to bear the pain of the plot and the dubious wait. It may come, but I ask that you always show what you came for. Rejection will never hurt as much as a lack of empathy.
