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ojalá supiera por dónde empezar a callar por medio de las palabras. así mi silencio te llegaría a los ojos y sentirías que no está vacío, y que tampoco se entiende a sí mismo; pero que quiere hacerte entenderme, golpearte en el pecho y hacerte mirar al cielo hasta que la luz del sol te encandelille. tendremos tanta luz y seremos invisibles, seremos el mismo rostro sin saberlo y nunca más me preguntarás qué sucede, porque sabrías cuándo tardaría en contártelo.
o podría sólo mirarte.
The class was finally over. I made a shitty drawing in the back of a chocolate wrapper, left it on the top of the desk and left the classroom. He, (who by a happy coincidence was sitting next to me) picked up the drawing while I was tieing my shoes. I noticed because he read out loud the two words I wrote in it, and then put it in his pocket. I followed him. He walked quickly, like he always does when he’s leaving, and went past three trash cans. But he didn’t throw it away. I know he knew it was mine, he saw me drawing it, took it, and kept it in his pocket.
And that was enough to make me smile all the way home.
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