Diecinueve de Junio

So, here we sit with the wind loud in the trees of the garden beside us. The garden is right now a wall of black without even a touch of light to make out where it begins and ends. Adan hovers a mini flashlight over his reading and i soon will do the same for there is exactly nothing else that can be done in this large house in this small town with no electricity and no running water. We are not irritated and instead have adjusted in these two weeks to the uncertainty of everything.

We cook in the dark, we read in the dark, and sometimes when the water works but the lights do not, we shower in the dark. And when the lights work but the water does not, we cook with dirty hands, empty our intestines without flushing the toilet, sweat through our clothes and crawl into bed with no showers.

When there is no electricity and no running water there is absolutely nothing to do but idolize the universe. Across an unfathomable expanse, the stars can be seen for lightyears and one cannot help but bow with a novel respect. When there is no light and no water, there is nothing to do but look at the stars, talk about the stars and take photos of the stars through the ironwork of our balcony.

When there is no light and no water there is nothing to do but kiss in the dark. There is absolutely nothing to do but rediscover the texture of one another’s lips in a pitch black kitchen.

There is exactly nothing to do but sit on our balcony and listen to Spanish humming from the dark sidewalks, nothing to do but listen to our neighbors creak in their rocking chairs and purr in melodic conversation. With no electricity, there is nothing to do but shine flashlights on spiders and marvel at the acute angles of their many skinny legs which create Spiro-graphic shadows on adobe walls.

There is nothing to do but write by candle light, play viola on the balcony, search for kittens with flashlights, swing in hammocks in the pitch black garden, and feel completely content with the uncertainty of everything.