Dolor Y Gloria

Sometimes the day begins with fatigue, as if everything has already happened, and now all that remains is to live until nightfall. The smell of burnt feelings and habits hangs in the air, and coffee is the only form of conversation with the past. Here, the pain does not scream, but breathes quietly somewhere under the skin. Laughter has become armour, memories have become directors of a melodrama where the scene has long swallowed the actor. And yet, inside, there is still a ridiculous desire: to love, even if it can no longer be cured. After all, what else are we good at?