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Claire

She seems to have just gotten out from her "I love Chicago" abstract t-shirt. Actually she was from Indiana and soon we learned that her name was Claire. She was just writing about us, sitting on one of the restaurant sofas and enjoying a really strong sangria when one of my friends dares to approach to her. I meet her ten minutes later and hear the full story of how she got to our half island, but her speech was long and entertained and soon, putting the pieces together, I knew she was kind of a mystic person. None of us grew up with such an open mind. What envy we felt and how scary her life seems.

‘’Yes, I also crossed the border alone’’. She was an alien here, in a land with such hunger that the people shaped from anger and hate, took her as a trophies, a precious stone.

‘’If you want, you can come with us to another bar’’. We wanted to dance, but secretly we also wanted to take her wherever we went to. Us, young, with less hunger and much less anger that our neighbors we were also beginning to see her as gold. Speaking in 3 different languages we walked our way to the next and the next and the next bar. The night was starting to mix all the senses together and while the spirituous drinks were making their dances inside us, we were making our own moves on the dance floor. Laugh, stories, many jokes, camera flashes, and even more drinks filled the young us of the new day that was just starting.

‘’I took 5 lessons of tropical dance one time’’, she told us showing us her moves. And with that universal language of corporal gestures, enchanted by the rhythms and tones of the music, we were starting to get transported to some new dimension. We were not in an island anymore, our energies were connected, we opened up a bond that made us part of everything. For the first time we were seeing through her eyes, feeling the way she feels. We were not scared because we felt not alone. The speed of those next hours and the openness of our minds, transformed the space into a sphere, borderless, soft, infinite.

We loved her.

She took out her notebook, the same one in which she was imagining ourselves while she created our characters a few hours before and asked us to write down our email addresses. She was leaving. That was her way of telling us, us frightful and lonely islanders that she wasn’t going far. It was the kind of promise of these new days and we embrace it thankfully.

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