When guayacans bloom

Gea dresses up in gualda petals to celebrate. A smiling breeze walks calmly through the streets. Undefeated Sun It rises strongly above the horizon. The party calls them, longs for them; need them.

In the background, below yellowish, gray and white, above where silver and copper are found; we are located. Repetition of old festivals, initiation of new cycles, ending old lives.

Laughter, crying and wailing for the time that has already passed and for the experience that will soon die. The party lives again, reborn from the ashes of what was yesterday. Then, again, the breeze begins its irresistible song, the The earth returns to its blossoming field, Helios shoots his arrows again it burns and we, like all periods, move to other latitudes.

The field turns brown and the sky loses some of its shadow. The meat festival moves its thick chains to rally the masses once more in its name. Carnal, banal, trivial is dressed in gold and sequins, far away moderation and reason remain, there is no place here and now. Ecstasy is breathed in the water flowing through the sewers, in the happy steps of those chasing the music, in the smell of bursting gunpowder.

Unbridled joy reigns day and night in processions and competitions, breaking into thousands pieces of apathy and monotony. The city metamorphoses into the center of the hedonistic universe, and the city, empty and forgotten, ceases, if only for a moment, its turbulent drive. The money machine stops working, the sea of ​​bills calms down and everything is returned, by a thousandth second, to primitive simplicity, in much simpler times.

Masses of skin and bones sway behind the rhythmic rumble, skip over the pieces of yesterday’s memory, because in this moment we live only now, there is no tomorrow, there is no yesterday. People, hypnotized by the electrified atmosphere, Lazy flies and dreams watered down with syrup and alcohol.

Here and now nothing is impossible, here and now unimaginable odysseys are achieved, here and now reality changes into a sleeping dream. The party rolls, turns on itself until it is completely spent, from the resulting ashes it is reborn to start the cycle again. Eternal, returns to the beginning, banal, reflected in the pupils of the brood. The mirror in which lights, smiles and love are reflected is glued with rubber so that they can be take off at dawn on the third day.

Time is short and seconds, Just like the notes of music in the sky, they disappear as soon as they are born. There is not enough of it, there is never enough of it, but happiness is poisonous if it is maintained. The fun has to end, he has to die to come back. The northern rain must return, washing the fun, dirt, shame and love from the body. Dew reveals oblivion, so when the long-awaited celebration returns, the memories created are more intense. Therein lies the magic, therein lies the trap, therein lies the addictive tendency of the human spirit to return to the bed of fun, entertainment, treats, celebration.

Now his life is over, the beautiful duty of spreading joy is over. by air, sea and land. The only thing left to do was to pull myself together, gather strength and think about returning. Life, like yellow guayacan flowers, withers and withers under the eye of Helios.