Waiting, is the most persistent of sensations. Although destroyed and unhappy, deprived of the meaning of the journey, we are sure one day the destination will come. Then, we will turn back to admire the long journey travelled as if it were a game of life, with the desire to retrace it to savor the beauty of the destination reached.





In Front of the Bakery

I met you in front of the bakery
while you waited with your head bent down
as who is waiting for a sentence.

“I’m the last,” you whispered as I stood in line.

How last you can be
if the whole world precedes you?
If, in the deepest of hearts,
you know you can’t get any position?

“I am the last” I whisper a few moments later,
giving every impression
to the next person waiting.