The altar and the work dedicated to the Divine Child. So many books. Short films, full-length films, theatre productions. In his colourful corner of the church there are balloons, letters, artworks, records, poetry pamphlets, photos from Young Creators’ events, passport-size photos of grateful Young Creators. Rumour has it that, among the offerings to the Child, there are purple velvet pouches containing marijuana and other drugs.

I’m back from Oaxaca. Today I had to make a lot of phone calls for work. I’ve used up my daily quota of words. All I achieved was drawing a spiral on the back of a receipt while on the phone to someone, I forget who. Our Lady of Silence covers me tonight with her white veil.

Jonás says he’d like to come home soon, that he misses me. I don’t know what to tell him. Here I am. I suddenly wonder: what will he be like when he comes back? Has anything about him changed? Is he still looking for something connected to his mother that he hasn’t found? Will he ever find it? That’s why his journey is so long: he can’t find peace. And what if he returns only to come face-to-face with the despair that made him set off in the first place? His life is on pause. The loss, the farewell, the death of his mother, are its themes. Indirectly, too: everything he does, everything he’s now afraid of, relates to the same things. What can I do? Nothing, of course. But I like to think I could do something for him. Believe in him, be with him, keep him company. I’d like to give him what he needs, in the way he needs it. So here I am.

Sometimes I’m afraid. I wonder what will happen when Jonás returns from his trip. Sometimes I worry that when he comes back this will all be over, but then, I’m scared of endings in general. It’s a consequence of the accident. Sometimes I’m scared of the end of the day, and sometimes I think that when he gets back from his trip a new, positive phase of our relationship will begin. Still, here I am. I flung myself through the window with all my weight and now there’s no going back. Like in ‘Wild is the Wind’, I’ll go anywhere with you.

I’d like to be a swallow so I could visit the dwarf, so I could chat to him. I’d like to be able to knock on the front door of that man I find so intriguing, have a few drinks, talk and talk without looking at the time. I’m sure we’d have a lot to say to each other. What would the dwarf think of my waiting?