from Galápagos

On the slope

This afternoon rains like never before; and I
have no desire to live, love.                        
César Vallejo

Climb up a steep slope and find in your hand the surprise: the gray velvet of a tarantula. There is
a lot of fog here how can you see the place where you put your hand so as not to lose your
footing, I tell the man that still follows me, at a distance. I yell through the fog, in between the
brown of this steep slope. He doesn’t listen, he acts like he doesn’t hear me, and we continue
climbing. Slowly. Soaked up to our souls.