Thursday, October 28

The memory for what – Information

With the mobile, a couple of dozen good photos and many hundreds of fuck off. That’s what I used to dedicate some part of the flights to, actually – do you remember when we flew? -: ruthlessly cleaning WhatsApp attachments. What a sickness of repeated memes, if you are outraged, share, they do not want it to be known and how someone somewhere cures cancer by sucking papaya. But among all of them, that trash of heavy metals, suddenly happened: that photo of my son doing the fool – By God, how handsome! But how handsome! – Or some food, or that trip – remember when we traveled? -. And I was already invaded by that familiar feeling of how you can be so happy. However, let me explain that I have no attachment to those photographs, what is it. What I’m more than hooked on is the memory they transport me to! For this reason, as long as I remember, it does not matter that the mobile has perished taking with it tons of file waste and a few diamonds that would go completely unnoticed by the other eye.

It was not like this in the past. Not the world, not me either. In the days when pulling the chain was pulling the chain, in my bag, instead of a mobile, I carried a wallet full of do not forget and souvenirs; of those passport photos of all my children in all their courses that, when spread on the table, confirmed that they are the same. There was the proof that evolution to who you are now was the only possible one. Perhaps that is why we can look back but not forward: to remind ourselves that we are where we come from and that we will be the ones where we go. There is no other.

Once a guy tried to rape me. Forgive me for letting it go like this, out of the blue, in this context, but you will hear that women have the same opportunities and believe me, of some things more and others less. My sin was that of so many: coming home alone. Whoosh! A bastard grabbed me by the neck armed with a knife. And I fought! Boy did I fight! That also, perfectly, I could have given up … I was already wearing tattered clothes and meats, a stroke on my head and a sprain, I just didn’t know it yet because fear has those things that paralyze you or give you temporary superpowers – But for what you want the most, if you can, don’t find out, run away! And I suppose we still have to thank him that the knife was intimidating. That he would like to rape me, but live. The thing was in tables when after crashing against the asphalt he left me half unconscious and he collapsed exhausted next to me. Then she grabbed my bag making it clear what the price was of letting me crawl down the road. The money, the cards, the documentation … I swear they gave me the same. In the context, just time, bureaucracy, and more money, but those pictures of shaggy kids with freckles and teeth popping out? They were very mine! Diamonds invisible to the other’s eye, but which transported me in lazy moments to remind me of how lucky I am.

There I learned, like so many others, to return home with the keys tight between my fingers, but also not to cling to any paper and to sift through each story what is truly important; what resulted in the end only context and what I take away

We have completed a year of a pandemic – what a disaster – and we are all remembering more or less. I, in parallel, celebrate something else much smaller. Of those diamonds that only I see and that is 700 days, 100 articles since I began to look at this window of a newspaper. So, sending my embrace first of all to those who the year was filled with lead, cadmium and bromine, to this battered body those who came to stay are the memories of where I was writing this or that. From what I laughed and also cried pencil in hand, that I keep superpowers for special occasions and in everyday life I am how I write: vulnerable, but also very ambitious! And I have an immortal faith that words, like memory, used well… can change the world.

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