miércoles, 3 de junio de 2020

un video de la cuarentena año 2020




Cuarentena en Paris. Todavía no me cortaba el pelo. En la habitación estaba Paula. Supimos ser una. Una rutina en el caos, Rutina de más o menos la misma música. Por supuesto el diario de cuarentena quedó a la mitad. Mejor, así no seguía escribiendo el nombre de él.

il est disparu



The way he touched me
made me feel like my skin was silk.
His smell,
the perfume that doesn´t come in a bottle.
His forehead is surely the softest place I´ve ever been,
babyskin they call it. I call it the need to be touched",
the urge of feel the heat of another body. 
I also call it "being Cancer".

Each date has it´s own favourite position to sleep, there is:
the "Spooner",
the "Only feet allowed" kind of people or
the "2become1" lover´s choice.
Yesterday it was chacun sa place mood. 
So the first touch in the day feels the best.
Softest. Warmest.
As taking a shower, put on your pjs and go to bed during winter time.
Like a pijama, exactly.

Your hand on my back feels like breakfast in bed.
You just don´t want it to end.
And "english breakfast" you said when I asked about your ideal meal.

We fucked.
You came.
I had coffee with milk.
And for you it was tea.
King Krule´s vinyl playing.
We said goodbye.
Chacun sa route.

Just like in bed,