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Bedroom conversations

A- I am crazy about you, you know that, right?

S- You are just saying that because I am naked.



A- I can´t believe you have reached this point.

S- What do you mean?

A- We have been together for nearly three years.

S- Oh?

A- Yes. I am very impressed you made it this long.

S- Am I that dysfunctional?

A- Yes.

S- Well, I believe I am still a “work in progress.”

A- Still? Honey, you are going to be a “work in progress” until the day you die!


A- I am crazy about you.

S- I am not naked.


S- You are just saying that because you want me to be naked.



A- Did you whistle?

S- No.

A- Are you sure?

S- Yes.

A- You sure you didn´t whistle?

S- Yes, I am sure.

A- Will you whistle later on?

S- (…)

Dad´s wisdom (recap of 2012)

– Silvia, you have to treat people like fruit.
-What do you mean?

Dad loves his sayings, and as I grow older they make more and more sense. Conversations with him turn most of the time on tools to meditate when I am alone in bed, and this time is not different. This year has been a very special one, for the good and for the bad.

– You like the healthy fruit on your bowl, right?

I have been a single mom since my first child was born. Despite being married, I was alone; despite I have made peace with it, some days are harder than others. For some people, like for me, alone is a perfect good equation. When alone becomes a couple, and alone is the only equation one knows, things get very complicated. Concepts like patience, negotiation, compromise and love reach a whole new level. Aware that I am totally handicapped when it comes to (grown up) relationships, this year, with A moving on with us, the equation has been a tough one to change.

I am totally overwhelmed with the positive this math had brought into our lives.

– What do you do when a piece of fruit starts going bad?

-You can´t fix it.
-No, but I can cut the bad part and keep the rest.

I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, remembering dad´s words, and I continue thinking about people, and fruit, and friends. Friends… Those ones whom this year were close have become closer, others whom (I thought) close, have become rotten fruit – or maybe there were rotten to begin with but I didn’t see it from the beginning.

-When a piece of fruit goes bad, throw it to the garbage. There is where it belongs.
-That is radical, dad.
-No. You keep it in the bowl, you risk that it will rotten the other one fruit, so the smartest thing is to get rid of it, once and for all.

I have a bit of a doubt taking such a radical decision -on my personal scale lays on one side the naive part that thinks I can save the world and on the other, the one that says “fuck it. I am done with this shit”.

My dad loves his sayings, and I begin liking them also. In fact, my favorite right now is what goes around, comes around… But since I am quite busy, I will let people screw up and let karma shit-slap them on the face…


Reminiscence on any given Monday


From Here to Eternity (1953)

Please be careful is never careful
Till it hears the gun
She will always pay the bills
For the having big fun
He talks so well, what can you do,
It’s pretty plain he means it too
I don’t want to sell you lines,
I only mean to do you right
But I’m a simple slave of appetite,
I’m a poor slave of appetite

Hunger howls, hungers red,
Hungers stays till it’s fed
Then it some h-h-how fades,
Then it somehow leaves your sight
Depending on it’s appetite,
Depending on your appetite

So if you take – then put back good
If you steal – be robin hood
If your eyes are wanting all you see
Then I think I’ll name you after me
I think I’ll call you appetite
Here she is with two small problems
And the best part of the blame
Wishes she could call him heartache
But it’s not a boy’s name

If you grow up to be, just like him, just like me
You’re fighting for exclusive rights,
For honeymoons each sleepless night
In which case I’ll call you appetite
Yes I think I’ll call you appetite

So if you take – then put back good
If you steal – be robin hood
If your eyes are wanting all you see
Then I think I’ll name you after me
I think I’ll call you appetite

So if you take – then put back good
If you steal – be robin hood
If your eyes are wanting all you see
Then I think I’ll name you after me
I think I’ll call you appetite

Then I think I’ll name you after me
I think I’ll call you appetite

Prefab Sprout – Appetite


You know –and you get a kick when you know it, but the very best is that they don’t know you know. And you observe them, like a predator observes its pray, moving careless and unaware of its vulnerability. You savor initially that knowledge with a crooked smile and feel an intense pleasure. Information is power, they say, and information that falls unintentionally on your lap is the most powerful of all…

It is a rush -but the rush evolves and mutates, and most of the time not in a wood way. Is the secret meant to be concealed? Is it meant to be discovered? A secret is (almost) never a good thing, and (almost) always conceals some harm, some betrayal or some deceit…

As you are damn good collecting secrets as you are keeping them, the question remains…what do you do, then, when the rush settles and the the pain of those secrets smack you in the face?

How do you keep playing the secret?


Don´t forget

Remember to be true,  to others,  but mostly to yourself.
Don´t fall. Don´t let them push you and make you fall.
Be who you are and stay strong.

Like a child chewing the top of a pencil,
deeply thinking,
concentrate and don´t forget:
either you do different things, or you do things differently.


It doesn´t hurt, but I feel it physically in my body. It is like an implosion in my deepest core, bending my body at the waste. My chest fills with air, my breath stops until I sneak my face  from behind in between your hair and I exhale “I love you”

It doesn´t hurt, it doesn´t,
but even if it did… I wouldn´t want it any other way.


Cats and dogs

Photo by Daniel Chowen

By instinct she leans over to pick a bag of cat food, but then again she remembers she doesn´t have a cat -that the cats that used to come to the house are long gone. There is no more purring, no more scratching, no more biting – at least not in that way, anyway. The small flap door has been replaced by a solid door that she has painted and make it look beautifully in harmony with the house.

It is Friday and she is alone, and right there in the middle of the store her back aches, because she is still leaning over the bag of cat food and who the hell puts those bags on the lower shelf and her back makes a “pop” when she stands straight while she mumbles that she is way too damn old for this shit.

The sensor flashes as she leaves the store and the doors shush open to opposite sides. She sees his tail wagging immediately as he sees her.

She smiles.

She pets him lovingly.

“Let´s go, buddy… Let´s go home”