The fact that he didn’t call me to tell me about Don Ricardo’s death, but instead sent an email, just to let me know he’d sent a story to my Kindle, the same way he does with other stories. Except this one was about Don Ricardo, and that’s how I found out he had died.
It was me who called him. An important figure of our childhood and history, I felt we needed to talk it out. I also wanted to tell him about the dream and the last note he wrote about my dad. I came to find out he had already read it, and discussed it with Lydia and his mom, but didn’t bother to share it with me.
Something was off. I know if I ask he will deny it. Tell me everything is fine, the same.
I escaped today, I purposely entered and listened to the latin forums in tiktok, I listened to their drama, as a way to have enough noise so that I wouldn’t hear my own thoughts. I didn’t want to think, reflect or invest energy speculating.
As soon as I finished work, I drove to Delano. I analyzed my dream on the way. The Studio was completely empty. The entire place just for me. I started working on collages, I was working in good spirits while singing.
The collage station is good, but the seat is uncomfortable, needs a pillow.
I left nearly at 10:30. Came home, ate and answered emails.
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