Blop– Blop– Globules of dreams. Spherical forms of happiness and misery. Color changing bubbles reflecting her soul and mine, what was gained, what was lost. At times red. At times blue. At times bright recollections, thousands of them, of a past alive and fresh. At times obscure reminders, millions of them, of a past so miserable and frustrating which I could not bear for the life of me.
Blop– Blop– The new house on the valley of roses and thorns. That fateful night of pure romance. My soul-twin. And the warm touch of her hand. The faucet dripping. The cat which I never loved. Those Teddy bears which mocked me when I passed our room. I had made my demands and she had made hers, but it all had been a whirlwind and no one had known what had happened. I did swim deeply in the love she had offered, even though I had hated her amusements and characters. And so she had hated mine.
Blop– Blop– We had been lovers and enemies. I see that through the bubbles now. I surrender to many things now, my immaturity and blindness, my ego and arrogant ways… But I recognize now through the color-changing bubbles that my surrendering comes too late. Too late. The car had deviated from its path and the bridge had marked the next event, and so it had been too late for us… The bubbles… The bubbles were awaiting patiently. And maybe. Maybe it was written in the stars. Maybe it was written in our souls. Only God knows that.
Blop– Blop– The depth is incredible, there are fish here and it is beautiful, spirits of love and tenderness among my recollections of happiness and sadness; I keep seeing through its mirror, I keep seeing her and she smiles. And our flesh and thought is old now, dying, dead, because of the bubbles, and because of the car… The car which forged our destiny, the end of our happiness and misery, the end of our love and hate.
- Asa Rodriguez - 