Desde el Baúl: Entrada No. 1 (revisado)

Cuando ví por primera vez la película Harriet, the Spy me obsesioné con documentar las personas que me rodean. Hasta le pedí a mami una libreta nueva para escribir cosas que veía.

Como resultado terminé escribiendo un montón de cosas- muchas de las cuales ahora no me hacen sentido, pero estaba empezando a escribir en inglés. Entre escritos de fan-fiction, versos, poemas, opiniones y narrativas de lo que percibía a mi alrededor, tenía casi como eso de 8 libretas llenas de mucha babosería. Tanta babosería que ni me atrevería a compartirla sin editarla. Además, la mayoría se fue a la basura después de uno de esos arrebatos, cuando me da por botar cosas.

Lo que leerán a continuación es la primera parte de algo que escribí hace más o menos una década atrás en inglés.

“Silence, total silence. That's all I need. But , I'm still attached to this thing called electricity. I was in a VIP seat to see the traffic lights change by themselves, as if they were directing ghost cars when to stop, slow down and go. Also the moon was looking like a medium sized big beige ball. It seemed like as if it was moving in closer and the reason for that is , I think,  is that it wanted to look closer on the fuckers that raped her by putting a Star Spangled banner on her. Oh, how I wish you could have been there, watching the traffic lights change again and again to no cars passing by. Everything was so still. It wasn't too cold or too hot either, the weather was the way that it always should be. So silent, I wish you could have been there all that silence but I bet you can't live two minutes of delightful silence.

I was just breathing, standing there I remember thinking: "I could never document this moment" on paper the way I see it now. If anyone read this and bought it to make a short film out of it, they would put a skinny blonde bitch with a hot cocoa mug outside on a front porch, when it wasn't even that way." And then my thoughts change and I drift inside my mind and my imagination takes me on a small journey when I think: "What if the human body had the ability to document exactly what you're feeling - the way you see the moment that you felt that beautiful, unaltered, virgin, underestimated silence - could be experienced by everyone?"

Ever since I could think, I always felt like and "I" person. Not that "I" think "I" could do anything, but always thinking "What about what 'I' think?"

I felt misunderstood and strange because I saw everything like a camera woman. Behind the scenes, behind the camera, and my eyes were like a camera lens and my vague memory was like a reel of an old film. I was always watching, never seeing myself in the activities in front of me. Then I realized that the eyes don't capture things the way a camera does. Like for example, if you move your eyes from one end of a room and then to the other end, the eyes don't move smoothly or run from one place to another, they halt.