For Harold S.

 

If there is something interesting about the end of the year dates —beyond the Christmas lights, the delicious food that some of us can indulge in to a greater or lesser extent, the ritual and useless meetings to sing to someone who comes to our souls, or the "drink and drink and drink again" which is the only thing they learned from that carol, for the better, some drinkers who take advantage of these festive dates to do their own thing— is the awareness that arises around the end, that collective consciousness that something is inevitably going to end.

 

     The end of the year is the time of nostalgia. The end of the year is sometimes a catalyst that raises the awareness of all the other endings, and squashes them there, in a few days, as if in an attempt to rampage memory and heart something inside of us believed that You can load up with all of that. And not just upload it, but then somehow download it.

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     The endings are heavy, especially for those who awaken a high understanding of everything that will not return, for those we spend our time ruminating, like cows, what started, the details, the changes on the fly, the unexpected that stopped being unexpected after it happened, what was and what could be.

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     That we human beings are that resistance against which the past and future collide, that is, an interruption in a only flow to later create two, is what defines us according to Kafka. In other words, human beings are the present, the force that plunges into time and is battered by the torrents of the past and the future. With that we have to bear if we truly live: with what was and with what can be, without renouncing at any time that we are fully present. We are memory, imagination and actions (which only take place in "today").