Note to the reader: if you are brave enough to visit
my town, vertigoville, pop.1, stroll down to the bottom of
this blog, it reads better in a chronological manner.
Caution: side effects may include nausea, dizziness,
and lost of innocence.
Women in my
life have never been good with timing, story of my life, they tend to come in
the wrong time and when they exit they leave a big void behind them.
There were
the ones that knocked on the door my life way before I was ready to invite them
in, the ones that were too right and too scary in the same time, the ones that
they were so late that when they showed up, the damage was already done, there
were women whose clocks were ticking so loud that I run for the safety of guilt
free encounters, and there were others.
The needy,
the unsecure and the ones dragging heavy weights of non-resolved-anterior
relationships…
Then, she
made her entrance, shy but able to stand her ground, smart but not in your
typical in your face way, and she was free.
On and off
and then I was served my deportation papers to Vertigoville and my world was
shuttered to hundreds of screaming and disoriented pieces.
And she
took over, she slowed down the speed of my spinning world and since then no day
passed without her bringing offerings of understanding, patience and a comforting
sense of humor.
She had a
mission: walk me through the exhausting and full of surprises labyrinth of
Vertigoville. She helped me achieve a
certain sense of sanity; she showed me how to gain back a lost trust, how to get
some kind of closure with a surreal and bone chilling experience and put me on the path to a better me.
This post
is for her.
She is a
refreshing smell of earth just after the passing of a cold front at the end of
a hot and humid day.
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