Here I am listening to bossa nova, crucified by my deadly overexcitment
in this crazy weather we’ve been having. I have no money and I am hungry.
But I am cultivating myself, immersed in this stuffy afternoon so sick and
tired of being brave.
Tom Jobim lulls my heart and I don’t hope miracles as the trees stumble forward.
My head is full of voices and flowers and the permanent damages are written in
my book of myths.
I am inside myself dreaming in paradise, keeping desire apart, writing poems,
eating my own art and this moment of me with myself is a masterpiece. I can even
forget myself for eternity and you will remember that once, at least once I knew
what joy was.
Karla Bardanza
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