camila

Gavin Evans

hi

long time no send

I vanished

I know

what I don’t actually know

is whether I disappeared myself

or myself disappeared in me

never mind

not returning to you is perhaps a cowardice

of someone who indulges himself

in his disappearing

 

I just don’t know

 

yet

I often think about sending you something

but I don’t know what to say

or if I should

or why shouldn’t I

it seems that every single thing

became distant of these days

one cannot smell and touch and feel

and seeing or listening or cuddling is afar

an enormous garden where nonsense sprouts

nonsense me

nonsense it all

I won’t equate the word all with life

it’s not as vast and vague

as the word life might imply

[life is or is not]

nonsense of being without purpose

a state of nonsensical laziness

working hard as any motionless machinery

 

purpose doesn’t necessarily mean meaning

but it put up a very precise type of joy

the one that rises from the need

of moving on towards whatever

 

so it happened that I gradually became bewildered

incapable of reaching out

to tell you the truth

I gradually became sick of humans

humans walking on the sidewalks 

humans shopping around out of line

humans lying on tv news

humans speaking out of podcasts

humans speaking up at overated videos

humans acting out in series

humans preaching in lives

app-humans

like ghosts

 

I did mull over and over again

on the issue of me not being able to live

without illusions that allow foreseeing

further illusions

which have always yielded in me 

the joyful need to move

 

be that as it may

in spite the fact that we’ve never met

it's due to you this piece that I wrote

 

because I can't temporarily neither speak

nor write in our native language

I wrote in this one and what I wrote

boils down to the following:

‘my dearest far-off friend

miss you

really hope you’re alright

hope we can meet eventually

and take a walk alongside

the nonsense garden

 p.s.: this is not a farewell'

andrejcaetano