Every night before she sleeps, is long. Sometimes hours. I give it three times, five hundred. I wrap myself in between the sheets and blankets. Calculate how much time has passed. I develop, the heat is terrible. I set aside my beloved green blanket. I'd go with the sheets. And it starts to get cold. Well, I placed the blanket only on foot. At least that works for me.
I go into a sleepy stupor confused. But nothing, not concrete. It resembles sleep but is not. I get out of bed, Bravissimo and frustrated at not being able to sleep. Way to the room. Do not turn on the light. I open the curtains and watch the unique vision of a downtown Caracas (almost) silent. Opposite is a colonial house that was remodeled recently. In the background is the building where the few lights that are lit are blue. This was seen at night, do not know why. And of course, I look at the light pole, the old lamp by Hans Christian Andersen, my night rain detector. No longer a drop light, even with very strong downpours.
so I stay a while, trying to conjure up the dream in the stillness of the night. Seeing so many times I've seen so bored. But I begin to discover things. This is what happens when you start looking closely everyday. Everything seems different. Again. So exciting. And that does not sleep.
begins to sing the rooster. There is dawning. That rooster crows forever. At four in the afternoon. At eight o'clock in the evening. At two o'clock. Who has a cock in these parts? Will the colonial house? I do not know. But like the rooster back to thinking I am, I have no rest, sleep that never comes. Back to bed. Put the full savanna, the only green blanket on the feet. In trying to sleep. A sleep if I can. Joanna Ruiz Méndez
I go into a sleepy stupor confused. But nothing, not concrete. It resembles sleep but is not. I get out of bed, Bravissimo and frustrated at not being able to sleep. Way to the room. Do not turn on the light. I open the curtains and watch the unique vision of a downtown Caracas (almost) silent. Opposite is a colonial house that was remodeled recently. In the background is the building where the few lights that are lit are blue. This was seen at night, do not know why. And of course, I look at the light pole, the old lamp by Hans Christian Andersen, my night rain detector. No longer a drop light, even with very strong downpours.
so I stay a while, trying to conjure up the dream in the stillness of the night. Seeing so many times I've seen so bored. But I begin to discover things. This is what happens when you start looking closely everyday. Everything seems different. Again. So exciting. And that does not sleep.
begins to sing the rooster. There is dawning. That rooster crows forever. At four in the afternoon. At eight o'clock in the evening. At two o'clock. Who has a cock in these parts? Will the colonial house? I do not know. But like the rooster back to thinking I am, I have no rest, sleep that never comes. Back to bed. Put the full savanna, the only green blanket on the feet. In trying to sleep. A sleep if I can. Joanna Ruiz Méndez