The Ferry in Which I Leave.

On the corner of Elizabeth St and Buckingham Palace Rd.

I usually like to challenge myself and write in Castellano, but as this piece is based in London, I wanted to "play" the part. 

(As a side note: I dedicated this week solely to the song, as I used Paz's "Hijos de la Malinche"as inspiration for my last piece, I wanted to dedicate this piece solely to "Cruz De Olvido".

The title, "Cruz de olvido" can take many directions. I didn't want to see it through my Catholic raised eyes and connect it too much (if at all) to a cross, although it did bring the comment my father's mother would tell my mom in times of domestic violence: "Es tu cruz, Dios te dio esta cruz, ahora camina con esta cruz." She basically meant "suck it up," but as Mexican culture, we always like to bring some religion to back up our "reasoning".)

As mentioned in class, I listened to the song over and over, about 15 times.  At each listen, I read the words... I closed my eyes. At every experience of the song I felt this song was closer to me than ever, something that was just a grouping of beautiful chords... This song, spoke a language beyond its lyrics, it spoke the language of heartbreak, or inevitable distance, of the unwanted pain, the desire of the olvido. 

I really wanted to focus on the hands, but the struggle to let go moved me to make a zoomed out image of the farewell.

It  was late at night, and with a couple sketches, it came to me. My current Cruz de Olvido was my departure from London, my departure of my partner, the end to a life changing chapter, and on the way to elsewhere, to Olvido. 

Olvido is a place we all want to go, similar to an abyss. But unlike an abyss, we don't want to disappear, but we want to move on, move forward with an awareness but forgetting of a past.

In regards to the piece itself, I just pictured what he and I would look like from the back. It was actually a long walk, and although we held hands the entire time, there was a point where I didn't want close contact anymore. Ahead of me was the entrance to the coach station, which would take me on a ferry across the water (barca en que me ire comes directly to mind), and there I was already gone.

No es falta de amor. It wasn't a fight and break up, but a distancing, a theme we have danced with a lot in this class, and will probably do so the rest of the semester.

When we want to leave to the Olvido, we want little with the reality, we want as little pain as possible, hold in our tears, (Canta y no llores), and move forward, no rajarnos. Hence, my moment of letting go was not of truly wanting to let go, but maintaining that orgullo and leaving to my next destination, Olvido.