summer south

The list of pains this morning is funny: the arm ―vaccine, fifth dose―, the neck, the waist, the left knee, the right leg.

But I run listening to Nirvana, Nick Cave, Pearl Jam, and I run well.

I like the hysterical light of the mornings.

The other day I went out for a run in the afternoon and that melancholic light, with which I used to run before, seemed like a prison.

When I get home, I start writing.

I feel a certain lassitude -I imagine that because of the vaccine- and I go to bed.

I try to sleep but I wake up.

So I go back to my study.

I play very low music, in a

:

, of the Stones.

At some point, I stop to do rehabilitation exercises.

I'm doing that when the man I live with arrives and finds me in a strange position.

It doesn't seem to attract his attention, as if he always received it that way.

He shows me a piece of old iron that he found on the street.

Details possible uses.

"Coat rack," he says.

"Before dead", I say, and then: "Will you help me with this leg?"

He walks over, shoves my leg nonchalantly as he comments about the shock absorbers on the car.

When he gets bored, he goes to the room.

I go back to the studio, but I get a WhatsApp message from him saying: “Come”.

I get up, I go.

He is lying on his back.

The rest goes on like this: we laugh like goofballs for an hour.

For some reason, we started to count old boyfriends and he puts epigraphs on them: "A fool", "ugly bald" (he wasn't bald or ugly),

"Don't talk to me about that one" (one that was important), "nice but bad people."

We pretend he's serious (maybe he's serious) and I protest with conviction.

He looks at me and says: “You are my family”.

I tell him: “How boring.

I prefer you punk”.

He rolls his eyes, says, "Let's eat."

He walks to the door of the room and, from there, he sings: “I'm leaving here with you.

And if you go, take me."

I think: "It's the bottom of my bottomless pit."

A summer night does not end better.

I think: "It's the bottom of my bottomless pit."

A summer night does not end better.

I think: "It's the bottom of my bottomless pit."

A summer night does not end better.

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