Quizás últimamente llevo una vida rutinaria, viendo a
toda esa gente que ya es rutina, que está sumergida día a día de despertadores
y autobuses, de saludos automáticos. Quizás últimamente dispongo de “poco”
tiempo libre. Quizás últimamente me estoy volviendo un muermo, por culpa de
esta rutina.
Bien, últimamente también he empezado a leer un libro.
Uno cualquiera, de un escritor “malo”, pero a mí me hace sentir. Un libro que
propone que en una vida con tristes cambios, el protagonista encuentra momentos
de felicidad, que desaparecen cuando para a pensarlo. Y yo odio, como lector,
al protagonista en esos momentos, porque el chico los rompe por buscar la
razón, y ya no sabe cuándo vendrá el siguiente.
Quizás últimamente escribo poco, y esto puede tener dos
lecturas: la primera es sencilla, no tengo nada que contar, puede ser; la
segunda, es difícil de explicar, encontrar en la rutina esos momentos de
felicidad y no parar a pensarlo, a escribirlo, para no romperlos como el
protagonista del libro.
Perhaps
I have been in a daily routine lately, seeing all these people who are already
a routine, who wake up everyday to alarms and buses, to automatic regards.
Perhaps I haven’t got “much” free time lately. Perhaps I am being boring
lately, due to this routine.
Well,
I have also started a book lately. Some random book, written by some “not so
good” writer, but it gives me feelings. A book that shows a main character who
is feeling wrong at the moment but occasionally finds some moments of joy,
which are lost once he stops to think about them. And, as a reader, I hate this
guy in those moments, because he lose them trying to find a reason, then he
doesn’t know when the next one would come.
Perhaps I
don’t write much lately, and that could have two interpretations: first is
simply, I have got nothing to say, could be; second, it’s a difficult one,
finding in that routine some moments of joy and not thinking, not writing, just
not to break them like that guy.
