Invisible Paths
21 March 2007
20 March 2007
over the screen of my laptop
one person dancing
most with headphones concentrated
around this table littered with flipcharts, wireless router, pens
discussion between two, ideas charge across the room
jokes (headphones come off, "qué, qué, qué?")
and I do not want this to end, ever
most with headphones concentrated
around this table littered with flipcharts, wireless router, pens
discussion between two, ideas charge across the room
jokes (headphones come off, "qué, qué, qué?")
and I do not want this to end, ever
magic
it kind of comes together at times. things happen... and the warmth, the calm sensation lingers on. and in this square, warm night after the sharp wind in NYC, in a square under trees, guitar and melancholic Mexican lyrics, quickly catching up with the world before sleep.
missing falling asleep with your arms around me, missing waking up to find you there, breakfast with you, walking around discovering you, the world, and some history. going on and on, and ending the day that way.
missing falling asleep with your arms around me, missing waking up to find you there, breakfast with you, walking around discovering you, the world, and some history. going on and on, and ending the day that way.
06 March 2007
buenos dias
I spilt my coffee everywhere (kitchen tops, walls, floor) then dropped the container with my lunch that I wanted to take to the office. splash all over the kitchen. and I had just mopped up the coffee and dealt with the mop itself.
so more cleaning, just more complex than simple coffee mopping (you cannot mop up potatoes, peppers, tomatoes and onions baked with some sour cream, trust me). then I realized I was late, still had not had my morning ritual of a couple of pages of a book with my coffee, had not eaten anything, needed to wash the dishes, and search for my phone. grumpy left the building into a warm morning of sunshine, running down the stairs I almost fell and skipped a step. so downhill I fell into skipping rhythm. physically liberating, shaking my legs. and the trees are green (they always are), the guard dog in front of a house, a sturdy boxer, sniffed my hand like every morning. and I was in a t-shirt with the warm air on my arms.
oh, and I spilt the coffee without milk foam, and the kitchen needed to be cleaned anyway.
I arrived at the office smiling.
so more cleaning, just more complex than simple coffee mopping (you cannot mop up potatoes, peppers, tomatoes and onions baked with some sour cream, trust me). then I realized I was late, still had not had my morning ritual of a couple of pages of a book with my coffee, had not eaten anything, needed to wash the dishes, and search for my phone. grumpy left the building into a warm morning of sunshine, running down the stairs I almost fell and skipped a step. so downhill I fell into skipping rhythm. physically liberating, shaking my legs. and the trees are green (they always are), the guard dog in front of a house, a sturdy boxer, sniffed my hand like every morning. and I was in a t-shirt with the warm air on my arms.
oh, and I spilt the coffee without milk foam, and the kitchen needed to be cleaned anyway.
I arrived at the office smiling.
04 March 2007
table dancing
tiffany organized a chiva (traditional vehicle of the country side, now increasingly used as mad party buses) to compostela, a large club on the mountains overlooking Bogotá. All DreamTeam girls were there, and we took along the director for CEE of AIESEC International 07-08, our very own Ivancho, who had just come back from Egypt.
As per usual dancing to a great mix of everything the music scene of Colombia has on offer, and it took us exactly 20 seconds in our corner to take to the tables. It is the pure joy of moving, shouting, singing, talking while swinging back and forth to some vallenato, taking turns in the middle of the circle to some reggaeton that gets you there.
On another note, I will start a campaign about not asking someone who looks foreign if s/he speaks the language of the country. I am sick of hearing that question, by now I speak Spanish with Colombian accent. Now I know how the countless foreign looking people in Germany (and anywhere, but I know this happens a lot in my dear country of birth) must be feeling when they get that quite common and ignorant question in their home country.
Talking about a turn-off when that is the opening question to get me to dance with someone random... (i.e. not from the trusted circle of AIESEC guys)
As per usual dancing to a great mix of everything the music scene of Colombia has on offer, and it took us exactly 20 seconds in our corner to take to the tables. It is the pure joy of moving, shouting, singing, talking while swinging back and forth to some vallenato, taking turns in the middle of the circle to some reggaeton that gets you there.
On another note, I will start a campaign about not asking someone who looks foreign if s/he speaks the language of the country. I am sick of hearing that question, by now I speak Spanish with Colombian accent. Now I know how the countless foreign looking people in Germany (and anywhere, but I know this happens a lot in my dear country of birth) must be feeling when they get that quite common and ignorant question in their home country.
Talking about a turn-off when that is the opening question to get me to dance with someone random... (i.e. not from the trusted circle of AIESEC guys)
03 March 2007
that, too
my feet against the balustrade of your balcony
facing the inner courtyard of
concrete and rain.
tea (cinnamon and honey)
steaming cup in hand you talk
and show the images
of faces objects dreams
and me.
(so I was just an image, too, but only realized that later)
facing the inner courtyard of
concrete and rain.
tea (cinnamon and honey)
steaming cup in hand you talk
and show the images
of faces objects dreams
and me.
(so I was just an image, too, but only realized that later)
depending on when and where
on a night like this I would
sit on top of my desk, overlooking the london eye and houses of parliament.
let my bike roll down mount pleasant all the way to king's x.
listen to online music streams typing quickly with my feet on the desk and laptop in lap.
drag a small suitcase into a bus into a coach into a plane and into a train into a tram into your flat with the wooden floors and big windows.
sleep with your arm around me.
discuss one page of Heidegger's Being and Time word by word and argue all over again (and find that amazing analysis in another book 2 days before the exam).
listen to nothing in the street and the clic-clac the cobbles on the sidewalk make when someone passes on a bike.
drink ladygrey tea with you.
hang around rosebery hall and then be offered a floor to crash.
glide down regent's street, whitehall and race down to elephant & castle.
read.
write countless emails to you with my sister sleeping next to me.
sit outside with the phone, wondering what to say when you pick up.
make my way through the catacombes of the LSE Old Building to check my email at 4am to find people studying.
visit you in your room in front of the square with the tall trees and talk until daylight.
walk queen's walk and admire the lights.
have grilled tofu on a balcony and wine my arm barely touching yours.
think.
swim in the river walking back upstream.
sit on top of my desk, overlooking the london eye and houses of parliament.
let my bike roll down mount pleasant all the way to king's x.
listen to online music streams typing quickly with my feet on the desk and laptop in lap.
drag a small suitcase into a bus into a coach into a plane and into a train into a tram into your flat with the wooden floors and big windows.
sleep with your arm around me.
discuss one page of Heidegger's Being and Time word by word and argue all over again (and find that amazing analysis in another book 2 days before the exam).
listen to nothing in the street and the clic-clac the cobbles on the sidewalk make when someone passes on a bike.
drink ladygrey tea with you.
hang around rosebery hall and then be offered a floor to crash.
glide down regent's street, whitehall and race down to elephant & castle.
read.
write countless emails to you with my sister sleeping next to me.
sit outside with the phone, wondering what to say when you pick up.
make my way through the catacombes of the LSE Old Building to check my email at 4am to find people studying.
visit you in your room in front of the square with the tall trees and talk until daylight.
walk queen's walk and admire the lights.
have grilled tofu on a balcony and wine my arm barely touching yours.
think.
swim in the river walking back upstream.
