To Fenix Luna,

It's time for me to write again. I lost practice years ago, perhaps since that exercise with J in 2012, finally my brother J. It has been, then, almost three years since I last gave voice to my words. Nothing to do but go back to daily discipline. I tend to think that time has somehow slipped by, and it's true: some of it is irretrievable, but perhaps I'm still on time, Fenix, on time to reopen that conduct. It's not so much that my voice asks for it, but that today I can find the words. It has been a while since I last felt them flow with such lightness, time since I last felt such consistent access to that well that expands far within me. Expectedly, just like in the past, the trigger of this moving period of inspiration is a man. Practice has taught me that these things never last, that all clouds are destined to dissolve, eventually, into water, into storm or light rain, it doesn't matter, but one must eventually land on firm ground again. I then want to--have to-- seize this moment of stillness, this space on the border of time, this line on the limits of experience, to express to myself certain affirmations that will one day be reminders. So that I know that it is true, that it is possible, that it is worth it, that the world can be--sometimes is-- beautiful. Beautiful. I want to ensure that, on the day I look back, once this is all over, I will be unable to deny any part of it. I want to ensure that when that day comes, I will have no option but to feel, more than any other thing, gratitude. It has been a gift, life of mine, a privilege of indescribable dimensions. And it all starts with a man named N.