Ana. Ana, dear Ana. I love your son. I would have liked to meet you, to call you on the phone, to chat. Really? Me too. Of course, I would have brought you a book. Yes, absolutely, we’d be in the kitchen. Jonás tells me it’s the place you like best. I like being there too, it’s beautiful when the afternoon light comes streaming in through the big windows. We had lunch in there last Sunday. Yes, Rosario has it all under control. There are often containers of food in the fridge from the day before. I’ve learnt some of your recipes from Rosario. By the way, the Catalan crème brûlée we had last Sunday was delicious, how do I make it? Thanks, I’ll have a look in the drawer. The house is tidy. Marina’s really well. Relaxed and well. Yes, all good with him. Jonás – Jonás? Honestly, I don’t know. I think he’s afraid of being abandoned. But how can I explain that you didn’t abandon him? How can I explain that I’m not about to leave him, that I don’t want to leave him?
Do you think I could go anywhere?
Where?
Am I getting closer or am I getting further away?
Do these stairs go up or down?
7
7
This evening, walking down the grassy central reservation with my headphones on, I listened to the David Bowie version of ‘Wild is the Wind’ and had a metamorphosis. I started to sing, and all of a sudden my voice faltered. I felt an itching in my shoulders. Feathers were sprouting from my arms, my feet stopped touching the ground and at the same time I got smaller. I turned into a swallow. I flew over the grass and across the road. I looked down at the trees and the traffic lights; I saw the office windows and power cables from above. I flew over the park. I looked down at the patios, the cars, pedestrians dotted here and there. I flew over the trees and through the branches, I saw a parked rubbish truck, I paused on a nearby cable. And what if tomorrow I wake up transformed into a person? I love flying. It doesn’t mess up my hair, and my feathers suit me perfectly. It feels so good to fly. And oh, I can go so fast. I love being a swallow, I really do.
8
8
I like this notebook because it’s lined. Now and then I think the blue lines are like shelves in a grocer’s, somewhere to display all the words heaped haphazardly on the floor. It’s eight a.m., time to raise the shutters of this shop. Good morning.
The word of the day, according to the online Oxford Dictionary, is Hikikomori: ‘(In Japan) the abnormal avoidance of social contact. Japanese origin, literally “staying indoors, (social) withdrawal”.’