I enter her room opening the door which happens to be this half broken bed frame stading up,

colored towels/sheets covering it. It functioned more as something to cover the unblocked entrance than anything meant to simulate a practical door. I lift it and push it awkwardly out of the way so I could make my way in. The bright sunshine of the afternoon is barely noticed, only through tiny slits of her closed, half aluminum half towel window. She is asleep. Perhaps dreaming with some other life, or just her own. Does she live in dreams? Nicky almost never enjoys direct sun light as much as she enjoys its reflection on the moon. Perhaps she likes the sun better, but she misses it considerably as she rolls in bed until late and later and later.

I sit on her bed, observe her for a few seconds and then I shake her a bit. I stop and keep staring. Somewhat worried, somewhat just enjoying that moment of intimacy. She doesn't wake up, I was too gentle so I try shaking her harder, feeling a mixture of fear and embarrassment for having to keep on being stronger and louder to get her attention. She says a few words and refuses to wake up. I sit on the bed and sigh, looking hopeless. She always takes so long to wake up, so I jump on top of her, embracing the intimacy we already have, and saying loudly, ” Wake up! Wake up! Lets go enjoy the sunshine!” She finally responds.

I open the window, blinding brightness all around us. I lit a cigarette and hand it over to her while she still lays in bed. “Did you go to bed late?” I ask, “6am” she replies. “Humm” I nod. I notice her silver purse and skirts thrown around the room as I take a seat in the cold floor, leaning against the wall close to her bed. I rush to the next sentence feeling like the pause in our conversation was too long, “I just arrived from the train station, Paty picked me up”. I take the cigarette from her, “Just now?” she replies, “yeah” I go, releasing the smoke. There is silence.

The smoke fills the room and fills the spaces where I hoped were filled with words. I keep saying whatever, searching for meaning, searching for a natural way of being. Somehow not talking to each other made me quite uncomfortable. Reflected for me, her choice of not sharing much or my inability to understand her. But why did I want to hear? What did I want to hear? Questions that mattered gradually less in our relation as I learned to be, share and listen whenever the time came. “Are you working tonight?” I ask, “yeah” she replies. We both stare at different walls, my eyes search and stop at the open window sight of clothing hanging in the small cemented backyard. I like the peach colored walls. The day is quiet. We finish the cigarette.