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Visits to extraordinary exhibits of nature pass and I make my way to Buenos Aires, Argentina. A place where I want to settle down for a month to put down my backpack, write and recover from the ongoing self inflicted physical onslaught.
A week goes by and I change plans. The city doesn’t appeal to me and the urge to explore other parts of the country is currently lacking. I decide to return to the capital of Peru and will make my way back to Argentina later on.
Lima I know and Lima knows me. We get along just fine. The daily stupefying sunset, the absence of rain and some kind, temporary friends - Lima is enjoyable.
However, a phone call from my parents saying they’re coming out to visit me soon makes me change locations once more. I head back to the country where it all started: Colombia. Lord have mercy.
After a few days soaking up sun rays at the Colombian coast I rent an apartment in Medellín. The city I wanted to return to from the minute I left it.
Medellín has nearly not changed. It rains a bit more and there’s clouds hanging above the city frequently. All it does is blur the vision from above and set the sinners free.
During my time here I live healthy, visit church every other day and decide that a life with a wife, some kids and conversations about the mortgage is my new goal to obtain. Yeah right…
The city shifts all my priorities for the worse. My health and writing come in fourth and fifth place, going after the fairer sex comes in first, second and third place.
Looking for love so eagerly makes me find all the wrong answers to my hedonistic prayers. I caress new faces, change sheets and stare out the window, contemplating.
I get called a gentleman, a cunt and a dog all in the same week. I put in earplugs to drown out their words. All the screaming and shouting is noise I can do without.
Although… I do concur with the third remark. What more am I than a dog? An animal looking for someone to play with. A person that’ll cuddle and pet him, tell him he’s been a good boy and that everything will be fine.
Just because a dog runs around a lot and likes to toss salads doesn’t mean he’s bad by default. There’s the aggressive, uncontrollable, vicious ones, doing everything for their own benefit, hurting people in the process and there’s the playful but loyal ones, meaning well.
I’m merely in search of that which I’d love but have yet to find. I’ll quit all the messing about once I do. Until then I’m going to enjoy every second of this quest.
Outside I hear more voices, more opinions, more hollow words and see fingers of hypocrites pointing. I hang a mirror towards them with the words ‘Reflection of self’ written on it, close the windows and the blinds and make my standard move: I shrug my shoulders and start writing.
My pen runs out of ink and I look in the cupboard for a new one. There’s a pen lying on top of a flight ticket. I look at the destination printed on the ticket. ‘San José’ it reads, ‘Costa Rica’.
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