Messing with ghosts I

It was in Mexico, 1996, that artist Armando Alanis Pulido first started to paint black handwritten poetry fragments on white public walls, signing simply with the words acción poética. It was an advertisement for alphabetization, an invitation to read and a tribute to muralismo. The act became an inspiring citizens' movement, collectively responding to catastrophes of the city and of the soul. A gesture of civilization.

The memory of your scent still moves me

Sometimes a thoughtful mirror might be as urgent as the arrival of a vaccine which will finally make us appreciate the actual moments spent existing. At any time, but now more than before, the ability to do so speaks volumes about our own relationship with longing.

People die and they also withdraw from our lives due to all sorts of reasons. Suddenly or fading out, there are places we can never go back to. We are left apart with the emotions that absence leaves behind and there's not much one can do with them but to reclaim all of it. At the end we can't seem to care too much. For the most part, someone already ceased to be there before acknowledging departure. As for remains, it is almost always unbearable not to crave some rumbling.

Therefore poetry is that essential for all things universal. Not merely as solace, but because it may redefine the perception of ourselves passing the time, possibly repositioning perspective and changing paths. Let it (re)sound.