NOTA BENE:

Tutaykiri fue Revista del Colegio Profesional de Antropólogos de Lima entre los años 2009 y 2011, siendo su Director Walter Saavedra.

martes, 14 de julio de 2015

I'm immersed in thoughts that I don't know.


I left home as usual. Today I do not look where carry me my tired steps. I'm immersed in thoughts that I don't know. The streets where I am walking are hiding to the rhythm of my footsteps. There is much loneliness in the vagaries of fate. And in dreams with love, the abuse of Aphrodite moves happily... I just want to leave behind what I don't want to carry in my backpack. Although one not always leaves behind what does not want to take in the soul because the unwanted remains beyond our most expensive wishes. Nobody is as clean as to throw the first stone. And what one can finally leave behind, ends up waiting for us later... I've looked at my around and live I can see the faces that cross my back with eventful whips of pain always. Nothing makes imagine us concerns to each one of the walkers - who roam these streets full of people at any time, take with you... I'm in the library, all are reading or busy with computers which provides for free the library. Here I find the tranquility that I don't see in other places. I find curious that I have found an appropriate refuge here, which is always full of people. I want to be here even if I bring my own book to read (which already used to make when I was studying in San Marcos University in Lima) or I simply put, such as time, to write the ideas that run me endlessly, without giving away neatly in my computer. I feel accompanied but do not talk with anyone. In an atmosphere as this no one is tucked into their own affairs, all respects my solitude. They spend hours and are moving quickly in this bigger city. I walk through the streets of Queens pondering my loneliness... The days are a succession of alternating rain and Sun. My eyes look at the horizon without seeing the all of those buildings that do not allow me to appreciate the beauty of my own dreams. I don't want to find me with my own memories, what will be? I don't know for sure. Sometimes memories immerse us in realities that prevent us to better understand the present that we live, as we live them... And yet my eyes are always filled with nostalgia that I don't find inside me. All those who we've talked about simply because, at a certain moment, we need to talk to someone, have become silent in the same instant that we continued in the use of the word. What could we say? I don't know it. To choke the word, silence is imposed and knowledge becomes ignorance. Faced with this situation, is not obliged to take, if it is that our silence took us beyond what the sound expressions of our voice wanted to take us... I am afraid, said me my other I when he saw my eyes get lost in the labyrinth of endless reflections while thinking in the stillness they breathed in the fourth thousand mirrors where I was only accompanied by myself, multiplied in each of those non-existent mirrors that populated my imagination which mirages in the desert camp where souls come to meet their inaccessible to individuals like me rituals that I raise in the misunderstanding of the white temples. I also have fear, I replied quietly to I don't know who that told it me, without realizing that it was myself broken by this unsettling sense that tends to unbalance us at the least opportune moments... The misunderstanding, I say to myself multiple times, misunderstanding... What matters and what you said when you didn't have to say anything! What matters now nothing, nothing…! And the look was lost in the maze we cannot leave because neither is entered at any time. How can be without being in the precise place and instantly you are already inside, without knowing why, without understanding why…? The young boy was sat beside his mother when entered a lady who walked with the help of a cane. All the seats were occupied by elderly people. He did not stop, and his mother told him nothing. One of the bystanders stood up so that Lady took a seat. He and his mother followed still sitting there where the shadows are darkest omens. I got lost among the chiaroscuro of the desperate hours of yesterday... Everything is present in this future that we live since we're here.

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East Elmhurst, New York, United States

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