Voices

This city is so loud that I can’t hear the voices in my head. I never write in English, but last night I woke up and heard them. They were talking. It was pretty quiet outside. I don’t know what time it was, but the voices were talking in English.

They had found their way to me.

Here everybody talks, the noise is unbearable. At some point you get used to it, but if you start paying attention, you can hear levels and levels of noise. A car alarm two blocks away, the engine of a motorcycle, construction noises, a dog barking, music (reggaeton or salsa) coming out someone’s apartment, the noise of the garages, loud voices, babies crying…

I haven’t been able to hear my voice since I get here. And last night, it started talking.

I was amaze to hear it. But I wanted to sleep. I didn’t want to weak up and turn on the computer, or just look for a piece of paper and a pen. So I listened, I listened until I get sleep, trying to remember every word, to separate my thoughts, my happiness from the voices.

I’m not sure what’s next, but I’m glad they are back, the voices and my voice.

Comentarios

Anónimo dijo…
Al igual que los distintos niveles de ruido que describes, tambien hay en tu relato distintos niveles o capas de significado, todos profundos y esenciales. Es conmovedor.
Lillian

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