Travel Journal V
01/27/1911 There is no electricity and the room smells slightly of rabbit droppings. The balcony is a container full of clouds, holding the heavy rainfall possible doubt.
The Pajama wants to settle permanently and disorder draw a mental picture that I find funny. This is the eternal yawn not lead to anything but me which, however, I can enjoy. Certainties sometimes come in the form of sleep, improvised plans furry animals.
I expected a wet walk home.
01/28/1911
A ghost completely atypical, without eyes or mouth, which seems dressed for carnival, change the skin under your skin and wait in the shadows. Cortázar
speaks from a speaker. The hidden voice of the ghost is just to hear some laughter to the audio. The sheet hanging on a heads either, that ghost of shoddy playing hide a face, a body crouched on the chair, waiting for something else. July
finished speaking. In every heart sounds imaginary applause. Phantom blind
gasp in silence, groping discover another universe. Underneath his skin is colored sheet and smooth whitish skin fresh, warm, still shaking after the words of Cortázar.
The ghost moves from the reality of the spectrum sheet, which casts its shadow of two heads and eight limbs.
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