Fucked up guy he has no goals, no plans or objectives, he is dry, rotten, he doesn’t know how to enjoy himself, he is completely identified with his pain but he knows that he is not just pain, that you can’t be just pain. He goes to a town in Peru, Cajamarca. White streets, shaded passages, goat’s feet. They tell him about the old man. The old man in the mountain. He hesitates. A boy with a flower follows him down the village street. He tells him, I can take you to the old man on the mountain, he is my grandfather. They go up in three hours under the sun and the flies. Almost at the top of the mountain he feels like pissing under a tree. The boy disappears. At the top of the mountain, someone hits him on the head and he falls to the ground. He wakes up tied to a stick. There are two guys roasting a goat in the background in front of a hut. He is tied up and his eyes are covered. He hears an old man’s voice. The old man says, Tell me something nice. He says, Something nice? The old man gives him a slap on the head and repeats, Tell me something nice. I can’t. Because I suffer, I don’t know how to enjoy. Tell me something nice or I’ll kill you. You want to die. No. Then tell me something nice. That’s how she keeps him for six hours, beating him over the head and he without being able to say something nice, something he likes, something he loves. Six hours later they untie him. They give him water and a loaf of bread. He feels he failed, goes down the mountain, returns to the world, sits in a tavern. Are you talking to me? He raises his head, sees a shadow. He does not understand what the shadow is saying. What do you say? I said if you want to go with me for an ice cream.
Bad bedtime story
© Adrián Dozetas
More Pig news🐖
Fucked up guy he has no goals, no plans or objectives, he is dry, rotten, he doesn’t know how to enjoy himself, he is completely identified with his pain but he knows that he is not just pain, that you can’t be just pain. He goes to a town in Peru, Cajamarca. White streets, shaded…
Tipo fucked up, no tiene metas, no tiene planes ni objetivos, está seco, podrido, no sabe disfrutar, está completamente identificado con su dolor pero sabe que él no es sólo dolor, que no se puede ser sólo un dolor. Va a un pueblo en Perú, Cajamarca. Calles blancas, pasajes de sombra, patas de cabra. Le…
On the poet’s journey Transcription of a lecture in Lisbon, Portugal on April 2023 I was invited to read my poetry but I instead I decided to talk about something else, I hope for the organizers of the event it is fine. We had already enough poetry for tonight. I call this lecture “The project…