Bad weather

Looking forward, and then looking right and left. Crossing the road. Always an important gesture to make before going ahead to that jungle of steel and tarmac. My shower is damaged and I wanted the plumber to fix it. As he was fixing it, my eyes turned white. An image of a funeral and a concert at the same time was normal to me. A fat guy with white hair rises from his orange chair, turns off the lamp and goes to a balcony to smoke. I picture him lonely and quiet, and in that pitch darkness words flew by as if he had a book behind him.


I look upon the sky dozens of times during the day. I love clouds. Clouds are the symbol that nothing is granted in this world. Nothing is certain. Everything mutates, sometimes it´s cloudy other times it´s sunny. Good weather or bad weather.



And a cloud of rain is 5 miles ahead of me.
And a yellow banana is on a table together with a full moon and the empty jar.