It happens once a quarter.

I deactivate my instagram accounts.

I become obsessed with something personal.

I shut out the noise of excess.

I open my windows.

I play music.

Currently:

Saâda Bonaire, Sofia Gubaidulina, Vivaldi, NTS Radio…

Silence too.

I become obsessed with learning something new.

I practice.

I play.

I take the time to think about where I’ve been that brought me to here.

I question:

What is here? What is now? What am I today? Who is tomorrow? Is tomorrow?

A bird was on the sidewalk under a mango tree. I almost stepped on it. I exclaimed, ¡Ay dios mío! I leaned over and looked at it for a few seconds. I considered it existing. I considered us existing. I really didn’t feel separate from anything happening until I turned around and saw a woman looking at me. “Se cayó este pajarito del árbol!” I shared with her. I left the bird behind and walked back to me.

At home.

Clearing out things from the past. Wedding ring. Engagement ring. The bandana he gave me when he courted me. Some clothes that make me look frumpy. Old sneakers. Cheap sunglasses. Bras that don’t fit.

See, the thing is, I want to feel sexy. Like the adult woman I am. Sensual, smart, provocative, digging deeper. My mind is right, right now but I want to step it up with my appearance.

I’m talking heels, high high heels. Cleavage. Makeup. Jewelry. Perfume. Trousers, not jeans. Slutty little thongs.

You know, the works. I want it.

I want to be that woman I see myself as when I fantasize about my newfound confidence, courage. The art, the poetry, the woman.

It took me a long time to become this thing that I am. Woman.

My woman is not yours, by the way.

In the kitchen.

A dark spot on the floor.

¡Ay dios mío!

Another bird. Sitting quietly. I grabbed the bandana, gently covered the little bird. It moved silently. I felt its heart beat. I set it outside in the plant in front of my door. It remained motionless. I spoke to it sweetly before going inside to look for a dropper to give it water. I went back and it was still there. I moved toward it and it flew off. Poor thing was scared. I watched it sit above the trees in my neighbor’s yard.

The birds bounced from branch to branch.

I smiled. I thought about smoking a cigarette.

I went back inside and continued living my life.

The music.

The silence.

The occasional text from friends who like me enough to find me offline.

The wind blows through the trees

from the mountains

who have seen it all.

I am obsessed.

It all feels so erotic.

And I’m a slut for these basic beauties of life.