Here I am. I’m trying to write something a little coherent. I don’t know what to write about, and the white page seems to be a monster I must kill somehow with nothing more than my keyboard.
I sit in front of my computer, and look throught the window. I have two windows in front of me, both small but not petite. Both are closed. I have not installed neither window blinds nor curtains, so I can see and be seen. There is a white wall, dividing my property and my neighbour’s. There is a salmon wall a few metres behind the white one, that’s a second storey of an old hose, whom until a couple years ago was a single-storey house. There are trees on the street. It’s winter, thus they aren’t as green as in summer. One has no leaves; the rest are dark green. I see four tall buildings — tall for Guadalajara, of course. One is a hotel, a white and cream building something like 20 storeys tall. Behind it is a crystal building, 16 storeys tall, with a permanent crane in top of it so the cleaning crew can do teir jobs with safety. Just to the south of it a talles building, probably 30 storeys tall, still in construction. I can´t see its top until I move my head a little to centre it in my visual field. It will be an office building. Just a little south and beneath of it is the fourth building. It will be another hotel. It’s almost complete. Those couple are to be cream and blue, a mixture of glass and cement. A parking lot and a mini mall will be there too, but I can’t see them from my point of view. What I can see is a small apartment building farther than those four in my front row. It´s not that fat, but with 12 storeys it is far smalles than the others, and I can only see four storeys. It is an expensive building, just beneath the Country Club golf course. I can´t see anything else, except of course, the small houses in fron of my window. but all those are plain one or two storeys tall, and there is nothing remarkable about them. The trees cover all of them anyway, except for a white one and a small portion of a yellow one, in the corner. I can only see a window from my windows, and more than a windows it looks like a balcony.
There is blue sky and white clouds, nothing more. Clouds ranging from pure white to clear gray There is no risk of rain, not in February, not in Guadalajara. Around the city there may be chances, not here. The “Island of Heat” phenomena protects us, so to speak. That is the reason in pure winter we’re at 23 degrees and I’m writing this in just boxers and a t-shirt. I love this weather. It could be perfect, except that in summer, while not being too hot, it rains a lot. Strong, concentrate, fast. And it can’t be avoided. Noah’s Ark could become handy. The streets are always crowded, cars and people. There is noise, but there is silence too. I can barely hear a couple motorcycles running to and from the sushi delivery service. I haven’t heard any buses today, and the fact that my windows are closed may be the reason. If I open them I can breath the air from what we call the Forest of Los Colomos, the rest of a real forest now inside the city, one of our only natural lungs. There is a small wind blowing outside, I can see that because the trees are moving. A cloud is hiding the sun briefly, but not lasting. I… well, I have written more than six hundred words, and have already beaten the white page monster.
A job well done, if you ask me. Not an outstanding job, that’s true, but I’ve got my objective.
See you next week.
Yours truly,
Dijo.
An atheist, a freethinker, an engineer, and a good man. He loves to write, but sucks at it. And, of course, English is not his mother tongue, but was learned as a second language.
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