The last day of 2010 started as a cold morning. My Mother watered her plants and listened to the radio out loud while I tried to write a few meaningful lines. “How do you imagine yourself in ten years from now?” she asked me but I couldn’t answer. Ten years ago I was in San Francisco with Pico. We bought red wigs and painted our nails silver to receive the New Year in style; I remember he was wearing a shirt with cow prints. After more then a year of leaving art and creativity behind, 2001 was a meaningful year of creative and self-rebirth, and Pico was a catalyst. That was the year I decided to move to New York, my last full year in Guadalajara. Today it’s been two weeks since I arrived home and I already feel a little nostalgic about leaving to New York on Monday. For some of us who live between two places, saying goodbye is the unforgiving routine that makes us question why we left, knowing that our innate need to satisfy the curiosity to explore a greater world and life, wouldn't have allowed us to stay. "You should consider getting married before your time is gone," an uncle said to me during Christmas, "you can't keep traveling for ever." What if I want to have both; is it possible? Life is too short, regardless if you decide to settle or not; regardless on how you spend it. Now, as 2011 starts, I try to guess where we’ll be in ten years, wondering if ten years ago we pictured ourselves as we are now.

Everything will be fine. I have a strong faith for even numbers.