Medellín, 6 October 2017

These days have been very intense. During the San Pacho fiestas, which are the traditional local celebrations in Quibdó, and famous for being very long, there were events at Motete every day. Lots of partying, lots of drinking of viche moonshine and pipilongo. And now here I am. I’ve had a lot of fun, and I’ve learned a lot.

Sometimes everything happens very quickly and I feel like there’s no time to think. It cuts into my writing time, too. How to slow down? I’m managing to persuade myself that Motete has its own rhythm. I want to make space for some calmer moments. Find a way of settling things down. I want more roots.

When I don’t have so many stories to tell you about myself, and all my stories are about Motete, I wonder about the balance between this thing which is so much a part of me and my own self.

I’m surprised by my newfound ability to set aside things that seem to be so personal. Or rather, perhaps, by how personal and intimate this project is.

I’m leaving tomorrow, this time without a date for returning to Medellín. Once again, without knowing when I’ll see you next. That would upset other people, but it gives me a pleasure like fireflies’ light, an enjoyable flickering, a glow that doesn’t dazzle. Nothing like the glare of lightning bolts. The magic of a constant glimmer, even if it’s not always visible.

It occurs to me that our feeling for each other is like the tide: we’re always there, sometimes closer – high tide – and sometimes further away – low tide – but always present. And when we see each other, we’re like fireflies. All flickering, magical, necessary for life.

We’ll stay here, then, and see each other when the time is right.

Kisses,

Vel