By Wilfredo Arriola
There are two pages left until the end of the book, the characters are having their final result. That misunderstood thing starts to make sense, the location is not what I expected, the atmosphere was a curve, my bet was not what I expected, everything became different, without my script, without my share of supposedly lucid reading of predicting the part that closes. the history. My attention was taken by another scene, the novelty took away my fixation and I felt at times that what I had read was an unsuspected path, interesting but tricky or intrepid? Getting the future right makes us lose the mystery, but we gain egocentrism, I don’t know which will add more to the moment.
I don’t usually understand the endings, sometimes they are so unpredictable, worse those that arrive without ads, they just appear. Maybe like death. The sudden always reveals us, like a reflection, one is not prepared and the reaction is what it is. It is not enough to understand, although we think we understand, self-lying relieves, but it means lifting the rug and throwing away the dust so that in due course someone can lift it and look at the remains of what someone did not know how to take care of in the best way. Postpone, and make the light a path to follow, take it with you, put it next to you, look at it from time to time, sit down with a coffee and look into its eyes, which is exactly having a lost look. Have the necessary diligence to not want to do anything.
Everything has its cycle and that truth is one of the most lacerating there is. Lethal. Training the soul for the future is not an easy task, no matter how easy it may be, paying attention to it is experiencing defeat before loss, despite that there are always short episodes that announce that there is a storm that is coming. Some see it, others take out the camera and portray the beauty of pain with the colors that a rain paints. Others look for a roof and while I pass by, do what suits them best, have something hot, a beer, a tea or simply listen to what happens on the roofs when it is present, so there are others, they live it, they They soak up, they expel the pain, they look at it head-on and with their eyes they present themselves from the depths of their being. Here I am and here I surrender. That whatever has to happen.
There is always something left after everything. A phrase, a memory, a painting, a note, a song, an October sky, a company in the middle of the disaster, a conversation based on what has been read, a mental image, a complaint, a criticism or more than one, the tiredness of see the same. There is something left, whatever is left that always stays with the sincerity of what has been experienced. We are irreducibly the sum of so many minds, some remain, others leave. But there is always something left, the endings tell us that. There is something left…hopefully it will be useful, not forever, but when it is appropriate it will be essential. Like everyone at some point in life. Hopefully we will have the joy of knowing that we have been or will be… When and for whom? We don’t know, being one is already a gain.
#UNDERSTAND #ENDINGS
