De cuando te dan un folio, un bolígrafo, un idioma, un título y tiempo limitado: No more letters.

I have no words. No scream. No guilt. No thoughts without you. I used to have a lot of words to say, a lot of things to do, a lot of feelings to show. But now I only have dead-letters(*). A dead-letter is a cocktail made of words unknown. That words we never say, that words we think all time but aren’t pleasant enough. For you, by now, I’m dead with all my feelings, all my thoughts, all my words and of course, all my letters. I don’t wanna tell you anything successful, lovely or kind. I can’t.
And this is how I want you to remember me: simply kind, lovely and successful. Don’t try again. Stop calling me. Stop talking about me. Just forget, forgive, and please, write me no more letters.
(2009)







No decía palabras
Acercaba tan sólo un cuerpo interrogante,
Porque ignoraba que el deseo es una pregunta
Cuya respuesta no existe, (...)
Un roce al paso,
Una mirada fugaz entre las sombras (...)
Porque el deseo es una pregunta cuya respuesta nadie sabe.
 "No decía palabras", Luis Cernuda. (Fragmentos)



(*)the 'dead-letter' term: Lauri Ylönen, The Rasmus