Ona Vinyamata

And you want to travel blind.

There are lyrics that make me love music. Like Suzanne, by Leonard Cohen.

For me, it’s more about the lyrics than anything else. Understandable, for someone who hasn’t grown up with music but was forced to hear ten times a day “Hope of Deliverance” by Paul McCartney, which had my dad totaly obsessed for years.

I once wrote that I live some days to the rythm of Billie Holliday, the days I’m a good and organized girl that cooks next to a glass of martini. I’ve also lived to the rythm of The Killers, smoking like a truck driver, eating fries and drinking beer while organizing songs for the next party. Sade, along with an adult that tried pretty hard to convince me that he was still a kid, but that was never up for some playing. Compay Segundo, next to a fisiotherapist that tought me casual anatomy with one hand while refilling obsessively my glass of wine with the other, but never had hands left to touch me. Guns’n’Roses with a Robinson Crusoe that turned to be more of a patio chimp. And Leonard Cohen, specially Suzanne, with a climber that was afraid to get lost and had a dog I everyday loved a bit more than him. Also Peaches, Death Cab For Cutie, Jacques Trennet, Pixies and even some Brandenburg concert.

But back to Suzanne… you know that she’s half crazy, but that’s why you want to be there, and she feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China. And just when you mean to tell her, hat you have no love to give her, then she gets you on her wavelength, and she lets the river answer that you’ve always been her lover. And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind. And you know that she will trust you, for you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.