Ramona [English translation]

I looked at that plain for the last time

and there, surrounded by the deepest of voids,

I didn't feel sadness.

For a moment I thought that I felt nothing

and I almost had to close my eyes a little

and look losing focus as much as possible,

waiting for the landscape to become

an old familiar path,

full of stones,

that one day were fixed,

in which you no longer stumble, but that

nevertheless, asphalted

has lost absolutely all its charm.

When I closed the door none of that came out with me.

The photos in front of that painted one.1

Inside.

The feeling of having created a family.

Inside.

Missing. Stopping sucking on her2fingers.

Inside.

The agony of not seeing her.

Inside.

The peace of feeling alone.

Inside.

The Post-its, the radio at eight.

Inside.

The feet dragging.

Inside.

The broken kisses. The magnets of exotic travels.

Inside.

The glass cabinet full of memories that now I don't want.

Then my pulse was shaking

when I told my doorwoman

to stop telling my life to the neighbors.

When she denied everything I knew she was lying.

I felt good.

I understand that it's fun to talk about me,

to comment if I have many or few friends,

to imagine how I fuck and with how many.

To think of all the shit that I have to put up with

how I look different if I'm not made up.

That at eight in the morning with the bow I look like another person.

It'll3remind me of how she was agood doorwoman

and how was I a good person.

And that she didn't tell me

the things that the neighbors said about me,

those who didn't complain about me,

those with whom she never

spoke ill of me.

But when I walked through the door, none of that came out with me.

The fake hug. Her lies to my face

Inside.

The voices that told me that she had called me

BITCH.

Her crazy eyes when she imitated me.

Inside.

The smell of sulfur emanating from my veins.

Inside.

Feeling sunken and victorious.

Inside.

The desire for a shower

to strip the fight off my body.

The worst thing was concentrating so much anger inside of me

that it ended in front of the best lasagna in the neighborhood

while I thought it was the world that hated me

although I was the one who was wanting to annihilate it.

And with the desire of that shower that would take away the smell

of the fight off my body

I started to cry with so much anger

that my eyes were swollen

as if the tears had not been able to come out completely.

And only then did I realize

that I had said goodbye to a home

without ever having felt it like that

and how I closed the door and left the keys inside.

Also inside.

1. not sure about the sense here2. I use "her" because of the title, could be "him"3. "the bow" maybe? "she'll" if it's the doorwoman