odilia's metropolitan diaries by odilia rivera-santos

I taught math with an eye to organization, careful consideration, a slowed process and an effort to explain small details whilst a murmur of panic filled the room like termites biting away at a door frame. What is learning and knowledge but a slow nibble at a huge obstacle to one's vision?

I met some friends downtown to chat about the usual -- everything from new art projects to sidegigs to sidesidegigs to relationships with art co-conspirators. Not too many conversations about romance these days, save for the one who's happily married and the other one who is in love with love along with her paramour. 

It was a cold day all day and we sipped coffee in big gulps out of paper cups because we're all addicted to paper. At this moment, at 6:49 PM eastern time, I am in Harlem. The air conditioning is pumping as if it were August, people are moving lethargically due to the unexpected resurgence of Fall in London. And I wait for the inspiration to get up and move to a warmer location but it doesn't arrive.

I cannot exercise in the evening without horrible repercussions ... thinking about strange meaningless things at three in the morning and wondering when my next proper vacation with wonderment and great company will come. 

I am sitting under the wind tunnel from the air conditioner, wearing a black turtle neck, looking like a professor and thinking of how much can change in life in minutes or seconds. 

The city seemed bored with itself today and the only truly excited person I saw was a little Latino boy, excited to hear a folk guitarist play ... I was counting the minutes until he would stop playing and the little boy sat in awe.

As the guitarist walked by, the boy asked if he might let him touch the guitar strings.

he let him and the boy was over the moon.

Love When You Say Love, Poetry by Odilia RIvera-Santos