Thinking in Dante’s Divine Comedy. Another sky in another Earth, except the Sun there is not a star but a somebody; and perhaps he secretly wanted that somebody to be a Beatrice.
(Part of a longer work I’m doing based in Dante’s work)
There was an old civilization here, in the coast near Ilo city in the Peruvian south. Those ancient people cared this specific place as a sacred soil. Usually our myths in Peru are similar so I can imagine the white island (I think it’s an island) as a visitor from distant worlds, or a woman cheated by a lord of power that in her despair was received by the sea and turned in that way to never been forgotten.
The civilization disappeared thousands of years ago but even now the place exerts a fascination, a charm, in me as well…
I saw this lady in a small city while I was traveling to Ilo city in the coast, with eyes in a patient waiting. By the way the lady is working, I think measuring the time and frequency of busses I clarify this because she’s not in poverty, she’s a lady with clean clothes. It’s sad when photographers from our capital likes to shot ancient people and show them as homeless (and sometimes tourists as well :S) even worse: they exaggerate the wrinkles and the contrast to exploit a image of misery that didn’t exist in first place.
A black visitor in the forgotten garden walking with the weight of its memories in its back.
A black swirl in its head and a black mourning in its feathers, a black partner would make it easier.
(or perhaps not)
A black visitor dressed in deep velvet with sultry wings skilled in skies full of blue.
A black swirl in its head, the memory of the wind it commands, a black panther elegance in its walk.
Sometimes it feels like a never ending travelling, Waiting in a seat to take a bus and be some hours more in other seat.