Hotel Restaurant

We haven’t seen each other since July, and now we were together as if nothing had happened, as if life had been just a game, and we were the missing parts that had been just found. His soft hand traveled by back and grabbed me by my waist and swiftly pushed me to the door which was already opened for me to cross it. The hotel restaurant was very fancy, and I could clearly acknowledge that I didn’t belong there. The red carpets were so bright that I could feel them with my eyes. We walked together to the table we used to reserved, where our stories were repeated each month, where everyone laughed and acted as if they were pleased with themselves. Memories rapidly covered my whole brain, and I didn’t understand why I was there, again. I followed him to the table and he moved the chair for me to sit on it.
Everything was the same as if time hadn’t changed, but time had changed, and I was clearly not the same. He sat right in front of me, with those beautiful eyes and lips, that perfect skin of his which had stayed the same. I knew we were going to be together once more, I could tell by his confidence and the way he moved. His right arm, so close to me, and his left foot, softly touching my leg under the table. I smiled, and so did he. The room became silent. I liked him, I had a feeling for him, but not the usuals, they were strange; It wasn’t loving, It was appreciation, I think.
As we talked, we reconstructed our past and remembered ourselves once more why we were waiting for our meal like we used to do. We order our usual and waited until the food arrived. It had been way too long since we had seen each other. Life tears you apart, and it also brings your back again. I was too young, and he was just a few more years old, old enough for making it illegal for us to be together, but, does it matter if you really enjoy being with him? if you really love him? That was the least of our problems, we tried, really hard to stay together, but college, high school, home, parents, it was very complicated, and it was just easier to let it go. And we did, we let it go, everything. He was working, writing as he wanted; some novels, articles; and I was reading and rereading books, revising and publishing them; sometimes I wrote my own articles. We both liked the same things, we both believed we were good together.
The food arrived at our table and we started eating. We had crossed each other that day in the morning, we were both on our way to work. When I saw him on the street and called his name; when he looked at me with his beautiful smile, I felt safe. We were now together, reconnected by this meal, this door to our past. We remembered our trips to the world; national parks, cities, countries. As I heard him talk I could feel him, I could sense the way he felt, and we were connecting.
We were both single, I was 25 and he was 29, and we had both been in relationships that hadn’t worked in the past. It seemed as if hours had passed while we were at the table, but it was only the effect of our memories, the effect of our words that represented our lives, our past that was now part of our present. Dessert was good as always, but I wanted to get out of there, I wanted to leave my cake and grab him, take him with me and be alone, connect with his soul, his body, with him. But I couldn’t, he was talking to me, about his life, and how he missed me and the family that now lived 3657 miles away from him.
I looked him in his eyes, crying for him to hear me, to understand what I was feeling, and he did. He ordered the check and slowly stood up from the golden chair that matched with the beautiful atmosphere of the restaurant. His left hand was once again in my waist, and this time I could feel it, more powerful; we were finally together. We walked slowly, classy, and arrived in the elevator. Once in, I asked him if he was happy with his life, but when he was about to answer, he was interrupted by the open doors of the elevator. We moved our feet through the red carpet till we reached the door of the room and entered it.
He offered me a drink and I accepted, while I watched all of his books and notebooks, which made me shiver. He grabbed me from my back and I turned and looked him in the eye. “Now I am,” he told me. “Happy with my life”, I couldn’t help but to smile and press my lips to his. My arms naturally grabbed his neck and my waist moved closer to him. What happened next is how I felt, how it made me feel being with him, so fucking great.
Everything had begun with that dinner, where we both connected and realized we were meant to be together, meant to be only one. And Aron, I need you to know that this wonderful feeling I own is all your work, how you make me feel since the day we met, since the day we reunited; this, Aron, is my way to tell you I love you.



It was hot as usual; the cloth of my shirt stuck to my wet body. I could feel little drops of sweat falling over my face, so slowly. My feet were touching the warm sand which was now a part of me. Wherever I watched everyone looked isolated, lost, just as me. Faces smiling, eyes crying, bodies moving, eyes closed.

The shore was now near me, and I was thirsty for it. The translucid water reached my feet which were now clean and fresh, new. I needed the water, and with no time for me to think about it, I was taking my clothes off; beginning with my sticky t-shirt and following with my long skirt covering my brownish legs, burned by the everyday sun illuminating the light blue ocean. I was now submerged in the water, replacing my sweat drops by salted water ones. My arms moving with the tide, my legs doing exactly the same thing. There I was, feeling complete, being isolated as everyone around me, being with myself, feeling free.

I was there for almost an hour, but it seemed as forever. Once out, I let myself fall to the sand, rest my eyes, and feed with the bright light. As time went on, I put my clothes on and continued walking peacefully until I reached Pablo’s restaurant, where he was waiting for me with some fresh arepas, chapatis and some “bandeja paisa”, my favorite. I was at home, but it didn’t feel like it. After everything that had happened, I was feeling strange, lost and detached of everyone.

I finished my plate, longing for something different, that would full fill my desires.

I arrived home and went directly to the water, which was never completely hot, we didn’t need hot water here in Cartagena, the weather is too hot already. As the water and the soap traveled and disappeared through the sink, my thoughts were running through my mind, making it impossible for me to completely relax. I needed to go, to be somewhere else.

I was making myself some tea, watching through the windows how the boats were heading to another place, to another route. So I decided to be a part of that new route.

Only myself packed for the journey, only me. And so I went, lost in the world.


It was a big structure, covered by grey paint that contrasted with the bright color that summer had brought.The voices of the inside were as loud as a broken car, the sweet breeze could pass through your noise. Exotic fruits were all over the market. Powerful colors painted the entire place.Fruits were cold, fresh. Some of them were flurry, soft, clean. People felt free in there. I got an orange. At the time it rested on my tongue, the juice passed through my whole body, refreshing me. The beams of light passed the glass roof and created a warm sensation that covered every corner. Skin felt renewed, you could feel the sun penetrating in your body. At that moment the loud noise shut. The only thing you could hear was your own breath. It felt pure. The refreshing taste, the amazing sense of touch, and the powerful sun that covered you with a cozy feeling, it felt great. Until a robotic loud voice interfered in there. It contrasted with everything in there, It was a grey and sad voice covered with a fake one. At that time, feets were touching the white floor, shadows could be seen from the distance. The oranges I brought were in a heavy bag that made me stoop. That sound made me react. A tiny, different sound. Circles of powerful color were spreader all over the floor. As I bent, my knees started trembling and a cold breeze run through my entire body. Everything went black and the smell disappeared.

No regrets

I remember exactly every minute. My hands were shaking. The weight of it could make my arms bend.  It was cold as the first snowflake in a winter season. He was in front of me. His face was as pale as milk. I could feel his regret. He would use his tongue to wet his dried lips.He would clench his fists nervously while rain drops from the sky would fall slowly as if they wanted to warn me. I ignored them and raised my hand. My thoughts running and crashing through my head made me doubt.

His voice sorrowing constantly, gradually started to disappear. Bit by bit I was picturing myself in time and moment. There I was, with the person who had done it, standing in front of him, I had the power to decide everything about his life. I was the one who could destroy him or let him free.

Every decision I took depended on a simple movement of my forefinger. Between life or death; I could make it happen. And I did it. The light was on, and it was as fast as light. It entered his soft skin, and the metal disappeared inside his body. His yelling was annoying and could make tears run through my cheeks. My body stayed still and from my eyes, the figure was collapsing in the cold, harsh floor. Red blood flows; starting from the injury; until reached the paving stone; covering every single stain. I felt the thick between my skinny fingers. I started moving, step by step. I could listen to every move I made, my hand grabbed the knob and opened the light door, I felt free and continued until I was outside. The grass was as soft as silk and smelt great. The air was fresh. By that moment I knew I had no regrets about it.


My head was lying down on his chest; so soft, so warm. I could feel his heartbeat rise slowly, with the rhythm of my breath. My hand, gently rubbing against his neck, so temperate. My eyes, lost in the soft light infiltrating in the small room, covered by a strange feeling of conformity. My mind gradually being disconected from my body. His hand, lying down on my waist, my uncovered body; his fingers moving slowly through it, making me feel a part of him. Our breaths, only one; our bodies, only one.

We look at each other, our eyes meet, our mouths smile. We come closer, and closer. We touch, we feel each other. My mind reappears, feels connected; we are connected.

That beautiful and special moment when you feel like he had noticed you

Reading is Breathing


I’m constantly doubting about myself, about what I do. I don’t know if it’s normal for me to be most of the time in my house, watching tv shows or reading, because while I’m doing this, my friends are having fun, being at parties, going out or eating together. Is it normal that I don’t enjoy going out? I don’t drink or smoke, which practically shows that I’m not like them, which sometimes gives me a weird sensation; I don’t know why, it just does. I feel like I’m being left alone, with no one to talk to. I feel like I have no friends to talk to. The only one I can actually talk to is a friend that lives miles away, and the one that I used to trust everything is now friends with someone I hate (I don’t know if hate is the right word, but I think it is). So now that my best friend is friends of her, I don’t know what to do. I can’t talk to her about the girl I hate because she is her “new” best friend. They are together all the time; and by “all the time” I mean all the time. So I doubt about myself, am I doing things right?


I find it quite impressing how people react when they see someone crying. Their first reaction is curiosity, they want to hear people talk, to reveal what had happened to them; the need to know, to be a part of it.

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