Artwork by Sang Miao

April 2012
San Cristóbal – Galápagos

You tell me not to kill.
I don’t kill!
You tell me no to steal.
I don’t steal!
You tell me not to lie.
I don’t lie!
Or do I?
I lie as much as I swear!

I used to see you as a hero. I remember those days when we occasionally met when you used to tell me stories. I listen to you so attentively that I later did it to.
I did or I do?

I sold time, I planted love and I warmed hearts. I saved my silence for moments. Voice silence and soul silence. A silence that made me cry and disappear. I sat and I closed my eyes. I closed them to be able to see.
I saw the anxiety that I carry in my chest.

One year has gone by. I want to see you but I can’t. They closed the regular path and sent me the other way round. One day I saw you. I saw that I couldn’t call you lonely again. Is it a wanted presence? I passed by you quickly and I didn’t say hi. I didn’t know what to say. Hello? How are you? Sometimes silence is more powerful than words. “words? What are they good for?” said the other guy. We talk and argue too much. You talk too much!

Wood bug was your other name. Isolated on an island. A house without doors, wet floors and colours in the air. A young friend seating on a rock. Rock or stone? I better call it a rock because a stone it is not! Through the center colours turn and it lands on my hand. Then in the air and they land on the floor.
Don’t be sad, it is just a game.

You don’t need cape or mask. I always liked your powerful weapon. The one you shoot on every direction without fear that they shoot you back. Smiling bullets and open chest armour. Here we live the present! I hear you through the telephone and many more will hear you to. I hope the battery doesn’t die! I hope you travel through the world! I hope the message keeps going!

I was seated on the floor when I saw you for the last time. I was seating and you couldn’t do it. I shake your hand and what for? I thought I could do it to show my presence, so you would know I am here. They send me back, because here you cannot feel. How can you not feel? Why can’t you feel? Turns and turns, I wish you can return.

One day they tell me I am lost. I didn’t believe it and I still don’t want to now.
I went down the north stairs madly listening to you without wanting to.

From north to south so that the next day will be south to north. You ask me for day by day and so I shall do.
Another north told to find you.
Soon I will.



Author: Sang Miao
: Charcoal; Watercolour