[Letters to Loreena] ❖ Weekend memory chests ❖

It took me a few months to write to you, Loreena. Everything has happened. I am in search of my midpoint, winged creatures haunt me and come into my life with earthly airs. They meow, even.
There are only a few hours left for the lights of this Saturday to go out.

18:32

The time I am ticking here is a reminder to me, that I wish I just didn't ramble. Weekends are always conducive to opening that memory chest.

This day was well moved, I did gardening. No (it's a white lie) I hired someone to do the hard work. There are almost 300 m² of green space that fills with weeds so quickly... However, I enjoy having a project to build a garden. In fact, it is half done. I just need to put my hand on it, for at least an hour each day.

{30 minutes were spent in the kitchen}

I had to go heat some rice, fry two eggs and make a salad with avocado and cucumbers. I was inspired, but my stomach spoke a little louder to me.

19:11

I continue.

I came here because I needed to speak to you this way. It has not been procrastination, it is simply that things have their moment and it is not necessary to force them.

While I was working a bit on my files and blockchain stuff, I decided to listen to Kany Garcia and her lyrics opened that chest. So cute it is, although sometimes it feels a little cold in the soul. Don't worry, it's normal, we all feel those things and sparks, the important thing is to know what to do with them.

I was also writing about my work, which I love. I don't know if I would be happy if I lacked this... and coincidence (or what do I know), my mother sent me a WhatsApp message with some photos. You see, it's a weekend to open the memory chest.

"How beautiful you were there," she said. Mothers always see one as cute. This touched me.

I've wanted to write about my mother sometimes, but I can't find words to say how much I adore her. Are there words to express how I feel about her? What I do know is that I wish I could give my mother a life full of fascination. She has clear eyes, they are rather eyes colour of time because they change her. One day I also wrote a letter to my Mamani. I wanted her to understand why I felt different. I think that this paper that she keeps until today, I would not be able to read it without crying, crying but not with bitterness, but with a lot of affection, because my mother, above all, has always been my friend.

But Loreena... do you remember the first letter I sent you? I forgive myself for every thought that tries to sabotage what is the right. I hope you understand. I have had this weakness that accompanies me since I made my first poem (about a deer). It was horrifying. 😅

I don't want to ramble, I don't want to ramble. It's 19:53.

Some people decide to go to a café to enjoy themselves. I love these kinds of people who can choose what to do with that time that we all need to have for our own enjoyment. It's been so hectic lately. Others, like me, write letters that may not be able to express what we have inside. We try and something will come out, maybe someone with a half-off light inside decides to come here and something inside lights up.

These are words I put in the wind. Memories that have impacted me in such a way that today I would be a different woman if I had not lived that.

That girl, for example, who lived in a wooden house by the sea... It was wonderful to live by the sea, being caressed by its breeze and also by the transmuted sighs in someone else's hands. However, I pause here, in my words, to tell you, Loreena, that remembering those moments today can have as many meanings as those of a dream. When it happened, it was only a beautiful experience, nothing that was above the earthly, as it could be -now- that someone remote between their sheets dreams my life as something magical and joyful.

Angel wings cover me, wrap me with their sweetness and it is what I live at every step I take these days when I feel you closer.

23:40

Life can get complicated sometimes, and finishing a letter, a little difficult.