What’s in the act of falling, that we unconsciously delete?
The stumbling block of a second and the eve of the impact, focus our forces there, tiled in the tightening of the eyelids, when we lose the balance on the rope and we rushed to the error, as unmistakable signs of loneliness, we fall over, headfirst, nose-dive, we fall.
Right now, gravity is not the best thing that has happened, though I wonder if I really prefer to miss the spectacle of the slow process of collapse, the fall of the fall, his resemblance to the flight and the crash of their reality.
Do you dream when you fall?
Or is it repentance that filters through our pores, clinging to seek, to sustain our faith in salvation, intending to say hold on, the clueless never failing to provide us a hand, not all is lost, no, we are not alone … although being on the edge it’s difficult to get into debate, I feel my feet dancing in the blue, and far off my arms from yours, will we fall, headfirst, nose-dive, we fall.
found in Prótesis para mutilaciones del alma, Eugenesis editorial 2005