Coffee

What he didn't notice while sipping that short cup of coffee was the little crack on the side of the cup and the look in the waitresses eye; she was looking at him because somehow she knew, she knew that in this, the 54th day of the year, that short cup of coffee serial numbered by ikea with the number 54, contained 54 millilitres of water pushed by a pressurised valve rated at 54 bar through a coffee filter containing 55 grains of coffee (55 you ask? well, life ain't perfect).

4:31 a.m.

4:31

He suddenly woke up with a weird sensation in the stomach (Hunger?)
and fixed in his head, the thought of her.
It was still dark, but he was not sure if it was
because he had closed the blinds before going to bed.
He turned to the nightstand on his left, took his cellphone
and when the screen went on, he noticed it was 4:31 a.m.
This was the sixth night in a row he had woken up
only to notice that it was exactly, four hours and
thirty one minutes after midnight.

He sat on the bed, still a little dizzy, put his hands on his head
and repeated in a low voice - Four thirty one.

A couple of blocks away a man was being punched in the jaw
when he fell down, the attacker took his cellphone and started running.
After hitting the ground, the man quickly stood up stood up, still dizzy
and started chasing his attacker. He will not catch him.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, in the middle of the dark room
he noticed he was hungry.

A couple is having passionate sex, her breathing seems to cut
while he grabs her ass very strongly. They will share an intense orgasm
and will remain speechless for the next fifteen minutes.

He stood up and decided to walk towards the kitchen,
when turning the lights on and feeling a tremendous
discomfort in the eyes, the memories of her came back.

A group of youngsters run naked towards the cold sea, 
the water is uncomfortable at first 
but they will get used to it soon enough.
They will walk home after putting on just some of their clothes.
Two days later one of them will get terribly ill.

He opened the fridge and took a green apple, he noticed how cold it was,
poured himself a big glass of water and started the long journey
that separated him from his bed.

A man, quite drunk, climbs up a table inside a club, puts his
sunglasses on and disguises his melancholy with a loud
- Whoooohooooo!!!!
He will come back home alone.

He sat on the edge of the bed again, only this time
the mirror was right in front of him, he could clearly
see his shape hidden in the dark and vaguely
a spark in his own eyes.

A woman sitting in Lotus-Flower position looses herself in meditation, 
whilst listening to the repetitive chants now in the distance.
She will come back home but will never be able to resume her daily routine.
 She'll leave home soon after.

He engulfed the apple in four and a half bites and drank his glass
of water in four and a half gulps. He let himself fall on his back
while covering his eyes with his hands.

A woman wakes up dizzy at the same time
for the sixth consecutive time this week, she is not wondering anything.
turns around and goes back to sleep. She will not remember
that she woke up.

He positioned himself in the bed under the covers,
and wondered why was he waiting up at this time,
Coincidences?

Millions of people wake up at this exact time, 
start their daily routine.
Some come, some go.
Extraordinary and ordinary things happen.
People notice them all, but will soon, inevitably, 
forget.

He fell a sleep with a thought in his mind: -Coincidences?
4:32 a.m. Tomorrow he will wake up at the same time.
The day after tomorrow he will not be able to sleep.
In a week from now, he will have forgotten that all this ever happened.

I saw you

I saw you in the airport
with that green sweater of yours
I saw you laughing across the table
with that yellow dim light
I saw you in my arms
with my favourite movie in the back.

I saw you at the door
with that sexy black dress of yours
I saw you in the balcony
with that bright yellow sun
I saw you in my arms
with the rain falling in the back.

I saw you at your house
with that big smile on your face
I saw you next to me in the car
with that red sunset light
I saw you in my arms
with the beautiful beach in the back.

I saw you mad at me
with that angry face of yours
I saw you sad many times
with your watery eyes reflecting the moon
I saw you in my arms
with a little music in the back.

I saw you in my bed
with that beautiful silouette of yours
I saw you happy many times
with your watery eyes reflecting the moon
I saw you in my arms
with the cold desert in the back.

I saw you say good bye
with that warm embrace of yours
I saw you part away
while I myself had to go
I didn't see you in my arms
with the cold fluorescent lights in the back.

Now I see you every morning
just when I wake up
Now I see you every day
while the monotonous life goes by
Now I see you every night
when the pillow is all I can embrace.

Sometimes I see you through the screen
when we have time talk a bit
Sometimes I see you in my mind
while the memories come back
But until we see each other again
I guess this will have to do.

Surfing

Abrió la puerta y asomó la cabeza al obscuro corredor que abria el camino al viejo y oxidado ascensor. 

Se armó de valor y se encamino al ascensor, presiono el boton y mientras esperaba, se preguntó porque no había tomado las escaleras, ¡Solo eran cinco pisos! (-Fuck that shit, I'm too lazy).

Al abrir la puerta del ascensor el inconfundible aroma a cigarrillo inundó el ambiente recordándole inmediatamente la habitación donde solía dormir hace años. 

- Piso cero, se dijo a si mismo mientras presionaba el botón.

Rápidamente se puso sus lentes obscuros antes de salir por la puerta, era un día gris pero el brillo del sol le molestaba en los ojos, no se había dado cuenta de la gran cruda que tenía. 

El traje de neopreno estaba húmedo y frío, una sensación muy rara en la piel. Mientras cerraba la cremallera del traje, notó un pulsante e intenso dolor en el hombro (seguramente la concentración de cristales de ácido úrico en las articulaciones, muestra clara de los años que ahora llevaba encima).

-Suck it up!, se dijo mientras soltaba la cremallera.

La tabla era larga, casi tan larga como la distancia que había que recorrer hasta el mar. La playa estaba desierta, tan solo un par de surfers a punto de entrar al agua. (Este frío y lluvia es pésimo para pasear en la playa, pero es perfecto para el surf).

Lo único que no estaba cubierto por el neopreno eran sus manos, pies y cabeza, situación de la que se daría cuenta en unos segundos, momento en el que sus pies entrarán en contacto con el agua helada.

El mar parecía iracundo, las olas no eran muy grandes pero venían con fuerza y golpeaban de manera constante. 

Remar le costaba trabajo, el hombro aun sufría y había que mantener el equilibrio, incluso con las olas cruzadas. 

Después de unos sólidos quince minutos de remado constante logró llegar a un lugar donde parar a descansar, pareciera que el mar le había puesto una prueba que había pasado (Aunque la verdad es que probablemente solo era el final del set de olas).

Recostado en la tabla y viendo al horizonte notó que empezaba a llover, una tranquila lluvia que en combinación con la calma del mar creaban una imagen surrealista y relajante. Perdió la mirada en las ondas que las gotas de lluvia creaban en el mar. Por un momento, todo se detuvo, ni un sonido, ni un movimiento. Podrían haber pasado tres horas o tres minutos.

De la nada las olas regresaron, como un recordatorio de que, inevitablemente, la vida se mueve, que esos pequeños y perfectos momentos no duran para siempre. Pero con el movimiento de la vida siempre viene emoción, lo desconocido siempre llega con aventura. 

Después de horas en el mar y un intenso sabor a sal en la boca, decidió salir y encaminarse a casa.

Mientras descuidadamente cruzaba la calle, algo lo tiró al piso, un sonido hueco y después, nada.

About the immortal dream

At the beginning three creatures 

came to be out of the emptiness

of time and space.

Immortal and powerful 

these beings soon grew bored,

and out of boredom they created

what we now now as the universes.

Among their creations

there was the human, 

a bright creature, stupid sometimes

but creative and resourceful.

There was but only one problem, 

whenever a particularly interesting individual

arose, it would soon after, 

inevitably die. 

A problem that was quickly solved, 

a paintbrush which would grant immortality

to whomever was portrayed

by means of this brush.

You might have heard of such a brush, 

it once immortalised in canvas

one particular individual known to man

by his name, Dorian Grey. 

Highlanders, cavemen, vampires and gods.

Fountains, explorers, drinks and bites, 

the gift of immortality was quickly immortal by itself, 

by means of myth and legend.

Legend that would, in time

fuel human imagination and desire, 

magic turned into alchemy, 

and alchemy into science.

Science and technology

were then applied in pursue 

of the purest of all dreams

the dreams of immortality.

And when the dream was finally achieved, 

and against all predictions, 

it was given to all men kind, 

not only those with means.

A few hundred years later, 

the now immortal humans grew bored

and in time, boredom became

insanity.

As ending ones life was not an option

due to the corner stone that was morality,

and the real reason, fear of death 

fed for millennia.

In their boredom they realised, 

that immortality was more of a curse

than the gift they always

dreamt it would be.

That those beings were not offering a gift

but spreading the curse they had, 

in the hopes it would make them feel better.

It did not.

In spite of their awareness of that fact, 

the now immortal humans created other beings, 

in the hopes that this would amuse them, 

or at least make them feel better. 

Not realising they were just continuing 

a cycle that would, in time, 

repeat itself forever. 

Dia 42

Ayer en un momento de locura o estupidez decidí caminar desde Oviedo hasta mi casa, cuando empece era un de noche, la carretera obscura, ningún coche a la vista. Aun me pregunto porque decidí caminar, lo mas sensato que se me ocurre es que quería despejar mi mente. Pero en realidad no creo que haya una respuesta realmente sensata. 

Visiones de desesperanza pasaron por mi mente durante esas primeras horas de obscuridad. Un sentimiento de tristeza, enojo y soledad invadieron mi mente. Por un momento me sentí vagando sin rumbo, perdido, sin saber si el camino que había tomado era el correcto. Dicen que la noche es mas obscura justo antes de amanecer. (Don't panic)

De pronto, un poco de luz, un leve destello de color rosa se dejó ver en el horizonte. Poco a poco empecé ver un poco mas allá de mis botas y un metro delante de mi. Esas visiones de tristeza, pronto se convirtieron nuevamente en arboles a mi alrededor; aun ocultando figuras obscuras y terribles tras ellos, pero de alguna forma protegiéndome. ¿Que estoy haciendo aquí? He conocido tanta gente nueva, he hecho cosas divertidas y nuevos amigos, pero deep inside, sigo sintiendo un pequeño vacío que no he podido llenar, me siento solo. 

Después de un tiempo, el sol ha dejado de dar colores brillantes y se ha escondido tras una gruesa capa de nubes grises, la carretera sigue solitaria, solo soy yo caminando y el ocasional coche que pasa rápido y se aleja aun mas. Empiezo a sentir el cansancio, he caminado por horas y aun no parece que estoy acercándome a mi destino. Me empiezo a dar por vencido, empiezo a buscar algún espacio entre los arboles o tras algún arbusto donde pueda acostarme y descansar un poco, dormir y olvidar todo esto. Pero cuando duermo es peor, tal vez por eso duermo tan poco. Empiezo a sentir el peso de mis pies, mi paso se ha reducido a un patético arrastrar de botas. ¿Porqué decidí tomar este camino? 

Me pierdo en mis pensamientos, espirales eternas que no llegan a ningún lado, por mas que las recorro. Pierdo la noción del tiempo y la distancia al estar inmerso en mi cabeza, la ciudad se acerca poco a poco desde el horizonte. Gradualmente la ciudad y lo conocido me empiezan a rodear, de pronto me doy cuenta de donde estoy, mis pies me están matando, tengo hambre.

Me desvío un poco de mi camino a casa (what's a little bit more), compro una hogaza de pan recién horneada y un poco de jamón ibérico. Al llegar a casa me siento frente al televisor a comer, el pan aun caliente derrite la grasa de bellota del jamón. Una mordida y lo único que puedo pensar es lo bueno que esta esto. Por un momento todo esta bien. Y supongo que así es esto de los placeres sencillos de la vida. Nos hacen olvidarnos por un segundo cuando la vida apesta.

Cierro las persianas hasta dejar mi cuarto en una penumbra total, me meto en la cama y noto lo grande que esta. Abrazo mi almohada y con un suspiro me quedo dormido (Un suspiro es el aire que te sobra, por la persona que te falta).

No pienso nada antes de dormir, no sueño nada, mi cabeza esta libre de pensamientos y esta en paz. Descanso.

Estornudos

En un mundo donde estornudar es ilegal, y al ser sorprendido en el mucoso acto te dictarían acto de formal prisión, con veinte años sin derecho a fianza; las cárceles se vieron abarrotadas y sobre-pobladas justo después de un brote de influenza. Mas del treinta y cinco por ciento de la población fue encarcelada, y en el momento en que los pañuelos desechables no se necesitaron mas, la gente se levanto en armas para exigir su libertar a excretar mucosidad por la nariz. Un movimiento global, que sobra decir, colapso la sociedad como se conocía.

A little work of fiction

It was yesterday when the last person who would ever need shoes to walk was killed. The best and last of the shoemakers just found this out from the prison cell he was taken to last night after he fell asleep behind the steering wheel of his old Corvette, crashing into a store and killing a civilian. Out of depression and lack of meaning in his life, the now pointless shoemaker will tomorrow hang himself with the shoelaces he had been saving for such a special occasion; long, yellow and plastic tipped shoelaces he stole from a pair of Doc Martens when he was just a teenager. No one will attend his funeral. Little did he know, the civilian he killed that dreadful night was no other than the very last person who would ever need shoes to walk. His tombstone will read: "Here lies James, the last of the shoemakers, may the Walker guide him home".

The old couple...

The old couple sat on the Metro, held hands and admired the small pocket knife with a tacky image of the Eiffel tower in it. They were wondering why a pocket knife was a popular souvenir in all the tourist shops around Paris if carrying any kind of blade in your luggage could cause you problems and what not with homeland security.

The blade was thin and sharp, something very rare for a chinese-made low quality knife.

The image of their first date came to their minds, the young couple sharing some wine under a tree after a bike ride, carving their initials into the tree, with an old fisherman's pocket knife, wooden handle and a thin, rusty but sharp blade; a very dull scene that could very well have come from a cheesy Hollywood movie. In fact they were unsure if this was actually a memory or just some image recreated by their twisted mind after many summers wacthing movies, but they really did not stop to think this throughly, after fifty years of marriage you take whatever blurry memory you have in your mind and cherish it like it was the last.

They looked at eachother with the same crazy and twisted glance they have used so many times in the past, it was as they were both having the same idea.

The metro was filling up but they did not seem to care. Stations passed one after the other.

A blood pact. She decicively took the knife and cut her finger in a clean strike, passed the knife and without hesitation he did the same. Their thumbs touched and their DNA was being mixed in a red spot that was getting bigger and bigger.

The same twisted glanced was shared between their eyes. They loved eachother.

Images of dark basements and meat carving came to mind, fuck they enjoyed that.

They both held the Eiffel Tower blade and stabbed the asian girl in front of them, for a couple of seconds she did not realized what had happened, until the searing pain in her belly started and she could do nothing but scream. Confussion ran across the Metro wagon, the old couple was already at the door. They have reached the next station and off they were, slowly walking up the stairs into the rainy night in Paris.

Was this the start of the new killing spree they were waiting for all these years?

- They are 5 euros - Said the store attendant with a thick french accent while pointing at the pocket knifes.

The couple shared a sad glance and walked away, they felt too tired to do anything fun anymore. And so they came back to Alabama, to sit on the porche, bake pays and grow cucumbers, mundane chores that brought them little to no joy.