ticking forwards

Not that it was ticking backwards,

but, sometimes, when I think about some periods of the last years,

it feels like


it had stopped ticking.


...


Is that what depression does?

Depression. This word. The biggest taboo.

And not because it is a taboo, but I want to say that I wasn't depressed.

I was solving a puzzle. I think I still am.

I was –and I am– solving myself.

What did I come to be? What fullfills me?


So far –yes, I have answers, this time!–,
I know that interpretation is a part of me already. Maybe it has always been.
When I'm interpreting, I'm immersed.

I like interviews, both listening to them as well as performing them.
The art of conversation; when I find a good speaker, I almost invariably fall in love.
A good storyteller has absolute power over me.
I always have to control myself in front of a salesman.
In a way, I'm surrounded by them. My friends have a way with words.

Making sense. Understanding. Getting it.

Being able to explain it. When the description is coming out, building in my mouth. Comprehending at the very moment I am expressing it.

Choosing words. Finding the word that fits in the other language.

This.