PÁRALA LENTITUD

Eight nine ten eleven, June:
If I could describe her with a picture it would be this one, her hair moving wild, the sweat in her forehead as she dances, her blue eye like a tunnel to look inside, she's so beautiful. The scene is frozen but she's moving. She spins through the dance floor to the balcony, and the dance floor is the living room where we all live not minding the dust or the time or the distance - a living room, a balcony, this is what we have left, it's all we need. For so long we were starving. Outside upon the rail she stops and smiles. She turns that smile to me and I say "Louise! It's you!" It's her. I look at her, I caress her arms, I'm a good man. It's her inside her body letting it all out. Inside me there is the limit of beauty and the limit of pain and she ties the two limits togehter and buries the knot so deeply until everything else is gone, everything, everyone, anything, anywhere. I feel death so close and so pleasant. And I hold her I hold her I hold her:
Lisbon, Los Angeles, Chicago:
Tel Aviv, Paris, Louise, The City.