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Caminaba con FerDommy por el centro de Asunción sin saber qué nombre ponerle al blog cuando nos cruzamos con un yacaré volador. Nunca antes me había cruzado con un yacaré volador. Pensé: ésto debe ser el comienzo de algo muy maravilloso. 

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Tattoo

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I was naked: no money, no cellphone, no Benedetta, no sangha . There I was again, detached from it all. I had no lover in bed, no children to send to school, my kitchen was empty of any perishables while being on the road, no work to go to, no plants to water. I had a fat, smiling monk ready to pierce my flesh a hundred thousand times with a sharp steel needle that had not been sterilized, with an ink of his own making that included serpent's poison together with a mix of herbs. A tattoo that he would pick in the part of my body that he deemed appropriate. I had no say in the affair. Not quite what my mother expected. Would I ever be able to find my way back into the legion that was at that moment sleeping in Buenos Aires? Maybe I had been cut out forever. Maybe I was awake for a reason larger than a lover in bed and morning coffee. Maybe it was just the flashback. Two years, ten months, and fourteen days. The wiry guy indicated with polite gestures that I should go next. I
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La mamá de Darío

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Ya casi no me angustio ni tengo miedo aunque de vez en cuando todavía me enamoro El calor los alborota dice la mamá de Darío a los gatos, a los loros. Y a nosotros que tomamos mate sin remera Nos colamos a una fiesta medio chetita de esas con sillones de jardín y lucecitas de colores Cantamos a los gritos cumbia villera. Soplamos la chocotorta y nos mojamos con manguera Después llovío. Corrimos hasta la casa  y me saqué la  ropa.  Qué bueno  que está  fumar sin ropa
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