Conversation with a dear friend, and amazing artist

Letter to Nicholé Velasquez

Paris, April the 1st

I have cried too – I guess we all have – somehow I try to convince myself that something better came of it; if not at least I’ve learned something. New. About me. About him. About trust, and what my father meant when yelling through the window of the car the day I left for Paris the first time, in a tone I had never heard him use before: be careful and don’t be so naive! I guess I know better now; I guess I know now; I guess now. perhaps not… perhaps I’m more blind than I ever was before, and the white veil before my eyes has finally tricked me to believe it’s made of light, when it only limits my vision and darkens my sight. How can something be so clear and open, yet so distant and mysterious like the hieroglyphics? Bird bird cat swan dog owl – it’s obvious isn’t it? I guess once is an instance; twice is a hobby; third is a charm; fourth a bad habit; fifth is an imbecile… and keep’em counting.

I’d like to grave my feet into the cold sand of Barcelona, while the waves obstruct my purpose from being done: those vile waves, teasing me as I move my feet deeper and rubb my toes against each other. But I’d forgive them – not that I think they ever asked for forgiveness, nor intended to pretend it wasn’t done on purpose. I know I would. Forgiveness is a great thing. Forgetting is a hard thing. Forever is the question.

The sun is smiling today – I’m going on a picknick! I’ll be more than joyous to share some memories and moments with you. I hope to see you when you come since I’ll be in Paris until the 20th – I am here now as I write.

Literally!

Uno fuerte para tí,
D

Allt gott,

Daniel M. Nino Cortés