Do you still miss me and think about me? Do you still consider staying by me? Do you consider me in your plans? Does it matters?
Sent at 10:03 PM
Time passes by, and will keep doing so regardless what we choose.
Sent at 10:05 PM
If we are not careful we will keep living in this transitory order, in which we decided to be but are not fully enjoying
Sent at 10:06 PM
I want to be with you, but I feel how time melts away, and the idea of being together one day is draining with it.
Sent at 10:12 PM on Thursday

I’m stuffing grapes into my mouth while I’m complaining as usual. Maria Jose sent me a text from Ronald Sukenick intended to shut up my whining and bear in mind that there will always be someone more miserable than you, or than me. At the end of the day life if hard, even for us with all our multiple options (or just the idea of having them, which I’m starting to believe that they are as the backdrop of a theater play, great landscapes but unreal). I’m getting my hand into the zip-lock bag to get the green grapes that are way below the red ones. I don’t like red grapes with seeds, although my mother says seeds are good for the skin.

I'm very tired and my arm is swollen. Today I got the Hepatitis A and B vaccines, and Mexico won a bronze medal for synchronized diving at the Olympics. As always it takes me a while to adjust after a trip.

Listening to "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction while Victor gets his haircut a few blocks away. The past week I attended the International Aids Conference in Mexico City, overwhelmed by the amount of seminars, plenaries, workshops and presentations. The one I enjoyed the most was titled "The Writer's Perspective", with some writers disclousure on being HIV positive, and their role as creators and artists to bring something else to the disease besides the scientific, activist or statistic approach. Giving "living with HIV" a sentiment, a reflexion, a condition along with the others that makes us human.

I have two more days left with Victor. We are having breakfast at La Selva, scambled eggs with ham and coffee. I can drink coffee now, the parania has disappeared after years of feeling allergic to caffeine.

Victor and I met Diego by chance while eating at a terrible coffee shop in La Condesa. His girlfriend left him with a broken heart a month ago because she met a Brazilian guy while translating manuscripts in India. We talked for hours about love, fate and decisions, and we walked to a Mezcaleria at Campeche Street to drink beer and Mezcal. Diego said that Mezcal heals the heart, so he had four shots. Arolinne and David -in their "it's complicated" relationship- joined us later while the boom box played "Melina". I love my friends. Victor is now sleeping while I'm writing still wet from the rain. Diego quit his job at the Mexican Federal Governmet Press and will be traveling to the Patagonia to piece himself back together. He will avoid Brazil; at least for now.