Ona Vinyamata

This weekend

“Weekends don’t count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless”. Bill Watterson

• I deleted friday.
• I played golf in the living room. And lost.
• I bought sexy stockings.
• I played under the rain laughing a bottle of wine out.
• N called me on saturday and we had a long talk about starting relationships. A kidnapped me on sunday and we had a long talk about ending them.
• I celebrated my one-year marriage, although the celebration has been in fact daily since way before.
• I crossed the city vertically on the back seat of a motorcycle.
• I had a walk in a dreamy crafty market with L and met N there.
• I exchanged sleep for sun.
• I watched Annie Hall, again, and loved it. Again.
• I met S by chance and confirmed my innocent ruddiness about introducing people.
• I felt like girls just wanna have fun and let a drunk Q fly me on the dance floor.
• I saw loved people excited about being able to finally and at least, give an official opinion about the future of their country.
• I ate and enjoyed chocolate “xurros”, rice with foie and jabugo, emerald from bronte pistachio ice-cream, carpaccio, carrot-apple-ginger juice, the best cupcake ever and so much seafood as to produce a whole new stop-motion version of the little mermaid.
• I loved so much I could die.
• I travelled to the North and South Poles with my now more than official travel mate, A.
• I had conversations with strangers about bakeries, stickers and abandoned cellphones.
• I felt euphoric about my addiction to sensations and experiences.
• I thought I can, and could.
• I felt I’m back to me.