no és tan fàcil

No ho és.

How a week passes by as you turn, walk, observe, enjoy... But wait in the slight realisation, that there is always a catch when things look shiny and happy. A tendence to drama or a realistic approach. I really don't know how to deal with this, so I just breathe.

Smell of fresh baked bread and on the way to the petshop to treat my sweet Lala, who has been banned from the appartment the last 2 weeks. In regard to cats love goes first through the stomach although her crawling into my arms when I sleep shows me she has missed me. And me as well. I often say I so wish she was mine.

On the way new shops. The new bakery, a modern clothes shop and a shop dedicated to Indian specialties... How original... An Euro shop? And so many smiling faces I start to doubt if I am in Amsterdam or in a European-looking Brasilian quarter. Spring smells like fresh clothes, clean hair, polen. Feels like soft skin, like nectar.

And I am here. back here. Again.

de mis días boleriles

Because I spent a whole week listening to boleros, and everything is contagious...

Me despellejaste a ritmo de tambores
Que em mi mente retumbaban, absorbiendo la energía
Que por mis venas corría

Mira mis ojos llenos del trabajo
Que me exhausta me dejaba
Que apreciaras que ahí estaba
Compartiendo plato y cama

Y cada manana, ay cada manana
Cuando el café a las venas me llegaba
Se abría la realidad que de noche
Con cervezas apagaba

Despegaste, pusiste la infinidad
trás El desgarrado techo
Y yo, yo con y sin mis fuerzas
Conscientemente perdí la cabeza
Pues pequé de saber que quién yo era
Era lo que tu no merecias.