Along the river

       Tatiana L. was at the balcony of her rented apartment in Lavalle, that same one that obscure Argentinian writer lived in the ’70s, along with all the dried plants and smells of morning and noise coming from the kids coming out of a nightclub at 7 am. She traveled back to 10 years in that little small town in the northwest of her home country and how she and her soon to be gone dear lover dreamed to be in a big city with a view to the sea in the dried heat. Her view wasn’t to the sea but the Rio de la Plata and the heat weren’t dry but hummed that clawed the skin like grease. 

       The wind in her face took her back and she felt like no day had passed at all and she was still a lily bride. A purple flash came to her mind that what she and DM wanted back then it had already happened and they knew, that is why they longed for it because they had experienced before. She entered the room to call him and for a few seconds forgot she had no idea, where her baby had been for the last 10 years, perhaps dead. As she turned the computer to email his sister, the last contact she had kept in those thousands of days, the door was opened:- Bunny are you home?
                                                             Tristan Nantes, 2020