To touch the skin
To feel each other at the same beat
To respect the loudness and the silence
To get a new family for a short period of time
To understand new jokes (or new dreams…), new ways, new personal and shared spaces
To do the dishes when the other one is busy
To think “they will be stuck in an emergency, so I better bring more toilet paper”
To speak different languages and the same one, with words, or without them
To “let it out of my head”
To be the nest for another
To be that place where someone can unwind
To trust that if we need, that nest is there.
Love is five people looking for a cat.
First day with Oscar
– Exercise 1.
No no, not an excercise. A task. Task 1:
(Original in Spanish. Read below it for translation in English)
El cuerpo tiembla, cada tanto, y la garganta se cierra. El torso se contrae, se retuerse, se dobla. La cabeza se agacha (aunque a veces se cae hacia atras), y las manos golpean y aprietan fuerte.
Se siente un eco, que aturde, y cuando no aguantas mas, el suspiro de alivio. Largar afuera, soltarlo todo, hasta que empieza de nuevo. Sos vos, es ella, el… no se sabe. Alguien dispara y BOOM, todos de nuevo. A enroscarse a doblarse a romperse de una puntada la costilla a acalambrarse la mandibula. En grupo, rompiendose la costilla por 58 minutos. Y todo eso, que podria ser la imagen del horror, es Risa.
The body trembles, every now and then, and the throat closes. The torso contracts, twists, bends. The head ducks (although sometimes it falls backwards), and the hands hit and squeeze hard.
There is an echoing, dazing feeling, and when you can’t take it anymore, the sigh of relief. Releasing it all, letting it out, until it starts all over again. It’s you, it’s her, it’s… you don’t know. Suddenly someone shoots and BOOM, everything starts all over again. Curling up bending over cracking the ribs cramping the jaws. In a group, cracking our ribs for 58 minutes. And all of that, which could be the image of horror, is laughter.
– Task 2:
Now we remember and we communicate. We try to listen… sometimes we can’t. The noise is too loud, a sound that doesn’t allow us to hear the sounds. I close my eyes in an effort to relax, I cover my face in an attempt to leave my skin stretched. It works for a bit. After a while, we are all in sync.
Is the end there?
We don’t even notice.
Road, conversation, points of view, coincidences, resonances, desires.
A collection of tasks, stolen and invented practices.
Almost brand new bodies, curious minds, a life ahead.
Thinking in Spanish, speaking in English, dancing in all languages.
A sound to start a movement.
To clean the world, to be a filter, to emit a long and luminous note.
Muting judgement, awakening attention, many tasks at the same time.
Roy’s place, multiple dimensions.
Taking time for materials to arise.
Telepathy all the time.
The body wide open.
A note for a hole.
Warming the orifices, making the skin vibrate, getting to know the other with the mouth, assimilating with the ears, looking for support, moving the chords.
To find without searching.
To know each other in the wondering.
To wish to know.
Not to desire, not to produce, not to expect anything.
To displace beliefs, to find oneself.
A rigorously updated pattern for total freedom.
Who am I in this context?
The things I do before I think.
Refreshing the tasks.
Tuning the silence.
Laughter like fouettés, like Dervishes, like shooting stars falling from the void into the void.
A space for transmission and care.
And the colored girls go “Doo do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do…”
It’s my party.
And I cry if I want to.
And Ravel’s bolero.