Divagación inútil / Lorenzo García Vega

Useless Digression

Is the carrousel facing the sea? Does it exist? Who said that? Is it on the, smoke-filled, structure or backdrop of a sunset? I ask all this without being drunk.

The sea, at times also yellow, often rises from a dark film —also full of smoke—, where a documentary, I think it’s about Carthage.

I turned —it’s a saying—, amid so much nonexistence, on the documentary, at the moment when the narrator was saying mummies had given in to the conquered.

Amid the images, what a phenomenal leap! But who, even though we don’t know what the wind brought, could have been the one to blow? (but, who, within me, has thought to ask this idiotic question?)
     I confess I was strolling around a gas station to prove how strange a yellow sea could be. But, instantly, I began to cry, and this was because I felt so alone, facing the invented carrousel.

Although now, in fact, a breeze has run along my ears —maybe it’s time to stop digressing.

Does everything end up eating itself? About the gusts, even if they’re decayed, nothing can be known. And you end up getting tired of going in circles —yellow turns, like the sea?— around the same, empty hole.

But now then, well, the afternoon has fallen, should I pretend a boy scout executed the crocodile with the green wig, or should I pull Rimbaud out of the closet, or some pretty, literary mummy? No, I should keep calm. The monkey’s not up for any taffeta, and let’s stop trying to be original. I’m much too old to pretend I’m original.

{ Lorenzo García Vega, Erogando trizas donde gotas de lo vario pinto, Madrid: Ediciones La Palma, 2011 }

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