the window that reopens my horizon

on the left it is the grey cardboard wall covered by my colored gantt charts. at the right it is this big window that hides my escape in the upper blue corner. it is where my head turns back, looking up with a kind of solemnity at the small sky cut in the shape of the window, whenever I fall from plus to minus.

it is not the beauty of the blue, nor the rain drops and even not the twilight that uplifted my head countless times but the sunrise, simultaneously happening behind the first row of mountains and behind the ocean hidden behind them, in my LatAm.

then I realized that the solemnity of looking at the sky comes, not from what I contemplate, but from the thoughts that uplift my head.

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