Some years ago, I decided
to write in English
in order to have no words enough,
then to be honest.
The truth is
this space is full of the need to grab
those imposible things
I was obsessed to.
(Don't be cofussed,
I am still obsessed).
But crossing these years
I went through turbulence
I read books about the possibility
of traveling within dimensions,
and I did so.
Now,
since I have lost everything I was referring to,
It's time to find out what I took.
I have a picture,
just a picture in mind.
It's kind of a memory,
out of the time, out of the space.
Always appears commuting.
12 minutes, round trip.
Not the tags, not the flowers
not the evenings, or dinner rituals
—maybe a recipee does
definitely not the boyfriend
not the plans.
I just can recall
a picture,
when I am definitely not grasping
my good old position,
our cheer,
those words.
It's just
I jump over you
and you grab me back
so hard.
