Everything is inside. I mean either inside my bags or the garbage bin.
The steward at check in counter asks me how long i would be in Malaysia for. This is just to explain how big my bags are.
So I am going around the empty rooms and i see that everything is inside or on me. I have boots and a cardigan tied to my waist, I could not fit them inside. I am also having a small jacket with me. It is august.
Then the last bit, the panama hat i had also kept out to wear it today, the only way to bring it along. I hold it in my hands. I run my fingers around the straw knots , around that black tissue strap. I remember when i had it bought by my sister. I wanted it to mark my status as tango dancer and as daughter of countryside people. My granddad had the same hat, a clear straw panama hat for the hot sunny days out in the fields. A hat he would move up his forehead with a beginning of a smile, when he had to see who was coming. Then with his eyes free he would recognize the person and the smile would give way to "hello, how are you?"
So i hold my panama hat, i do not want it to leave it in the empty flat that soon will be occupied by other people. I hold it lightly like something delicate, as delicate as a memory.
San antonio de Areco, Rosario, all those places would have been perfect for such a hat. DI carli music and high heels in the night, the hat and the summer heat in the fields during the day.
It is not a big deal to bring it along, it is not heavy. I am next to my door and i turn to the mirror. I look at myself and wear it. It does not really fit me. It used to , though. I move it on the side, I move it on the front. I do not really like me in this hat. But the hat is beautiful as if it were woven out of the pampa straws. I look at myself. I think i am not going to wear it. I think i am not going to bring it. It thought i wanted it, but now i think i am going to leave it here. For somebody that i do not know and will come to fill this place with his things and his dreams.
Maybe he or she will like it. Maybe he or she will throw this alien object away, wary of all the meaning it could have and they did not give it.
I go. I close the door and caress the Singapore boat stranded on the Mandi beach I took in a picture a long time ago. Some tears stream down my face. It was just a hat.
The steward at check in counter asks me how long i would be in Malaysia for. This is just to explain how big my bags are.
So I am going around the empty rooms and i see that everything is inside or on me. I have boots and a cardigan tied to my waist, I could not fit them inside. I am also having a small jacket with me. It is august.
Then the last bit, the panama hat i had also kept out to wear it today, the only way to bring it along. I hold it in my hands. I run my fingers around the straw knots , around that black tissue strap. I remember when i had it bought by my sister. I wanted it to mark my status as tango dancer and as daughter of countryside people. My granddad had the same hat, a clear straw panama hat for the hot sunny days out in the fields. A hat he would move up his forehead with a beginning of a smile, when he had to see who was coming. Then with his eyes free he would recognize the person and the smile would give way to "hello, how are you?"
So i hold my panama hat, i do not want it to leave it in the empty flat that soon will be occupied by other people. I hold it lightly like something delicate, as delicate as a memory.
San antonio de Areco, Rosario, all those places would have been perfect for such a hat. DI carli music and high heels in the night, the hat and the summer heat in the fields during the day.
It is not a big deal to bring it along, it is not heavy. I am next to my door and i turn to the mirror. I look at myself and wear it. It does not really fit me. It used to , though. I move it on the side, I move it on the front. I do not really like me in this hat. But the hat is beautiful as if it were woven out of the pampa straws. I look at myself. I think i am not going to wear it. I think i am not going to bring it. It thought i wanted it, but now i think i am going to leave it here. For somebody that i do not know and will come to fill this place with his things and his dreams.
Maybe he or she will like it. Maybe he or she will throw this alien object away, wary of all the meaning it could have and they did not give it.
I go. I close the door and caress the Singapore boat stranded on the Mandi beach I took in a picture a long time ago. Some tears stream down my face. It was just a hat.
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