Tú Y Yo Contra Los Demás

Sometimes a day unfolds in such a way that even coffee is afraid to get involved. Everything is falling apart, my thoughts are racing, and my mood is somewhere between "I need to pull myself together" and "leave me alone." But somewhere in the background, a light beat is crunching, grabbing you by the scruff of the neck and dragging you up to where you can breathe. There's a stubborn tenderness in that sound. It's as if someone got tired of complaining, rolled up their sleeves, and started planting flowers right in the sand. Let them not grow, but they are beautiful. And you know what, it's really not that bad. Even if the day was terrible, even if the stars are silent, there's always someone who will say, "Well, shall we try again?"