Eleventh – sixteenth

February 16, 2011


Listening to jazzy notes, in a room that’s not green nor grey, lights dimmed, candles on, the pianist hammering his notes, my thoughts drift away

It’s been a while since I last went to a jazz bar. Every time I go I wonder why I always let so much time pass between the last time and this time. This time and the next time.
I think about my life, about the plans I once had and now don’t have anymore, about the half-plans and no plan I have at the moment, which is quite a strange moment in my life.
My days are filled with Spanish lessons, tango, walking around, trying not to over-analyse my life, the future. Trying to live my life day by day, which is easier said than done and easier done than many other things I’ve done in my life.
My waking up in the morning varies between ‘It’s all good’ and ‘what on earth am I doing here’s, but I am not sure this would be any different if I was somewhere else, plus I have to be SOMEWHERE, in the end, so I might as well be here, I guess.
A bundle of light bulbs are hanging from the ceiling.
There are two trumpets on stage.
It’s one of those ‘It’s all good’ moments.


I love the city at night
Empty streets, lights changed, shadows
And a different rhythm of yet another day gone by
The temperature: inexistent
The exact amount of degrees that make you feel nothing
Neither warm, nor cold
23:29hrs – it’s Wednesday

Nicaragua y Uriarte