Yesterday was a beautiful day, after all it was almost the weekend and that tension from the beginnings and first days disappeared.

Sometimes no one believes that I am real, but the truth is that I really am real. Yes. I pay taxes, I have an ID, and let the system say it, otherwise, it asks me for a photo every year and it’s the only one that knows about my metamorphosis.

Yesterday was a beautiful day as I already said, and I felt that I wasn’t real, just as they had told me. I could heard your voice and then even my voice trembled a bit, my hands too, I felt very detached from reality, maybe I’m just an entity that wants to be real, but it’s already passed.

I also want to tell you that the weather was fine (the sky was clear at times and then it would darken and it seemed like rain was coming, but you know it never rains here. I thought about writing about it on some post-its, but the sky must be tired of me always trying to write about it, poor thing).

I was thinking that besides the life here and there, I have other lives too, the life on Mondays and the life on Sundays, the life alone and the life accompanied, the external life and the life of confinement, the life in winter and the life in summer, the free life and the life full of seams, all of them I hang in the closet and choose carefully each morning before dressing in them.

I used to wake up naked without knowing which life to put on and thus I spent the whole day, like a blank paper, without calendar or clock, without thinking about anything, without plan or schedule, without name or place.

But I woke up very early with a big smile, and having the suit ready, I dreamed of you, it was almost real that scene, in which that pasta with vegetables and prawns made us smile, because it accompanied us, your smile was warm, like my hands, and I think I dreamed all that because surely we talked about food, about your tastes so precise and precious, about my weaknesses after seafood, and a bit of everything, and surely I fell asleep with a calm and happy smile (again I returned to your voice).

Tonight maybe I’ll dream that we’ll be cats (and stray), alone sitting in a doorway and without hugging or anything, just sitting watching Lima wilt and moisten in winter, with the tiny full moon, and surely we’ll move our tails, look at each other, just to tell each other with a glance that we have made it, that we reached our first goal, to be together.