Hydraulic tiles

She could draw those hydraulic tiles a thousand times. She observed them for so long that she wouldn't make a mistake in any shape, in any color, in any crooked piece or with chipped edges. She would even know where the dirt accumulated. If she closes her eyes, she sees them as if she were stepping on them right now. As if she were eternalizing that bowl of Colacao with too many drowned cookies or that plate of macaroni that she has twirled with her fork. As if she were reading all the books she devoured in the kitchen, many stained with tomato. As if she were watching everything her mother did, as if she were counting everything she explained to her father. But it's been a long time since she stepped on that floor. The house was closed and abandoned, occupied by others, then converted into a tourist apartment. Many times she observes it from the street, afraid of running into some neighbor who survived the years and everything else who might recognize her. From a safe distance, the first thing she always visualizes is the same.

INFORMATION

Author: Pola Wickham

Text: Cristina Martín Valbuena

Title: "Hydraulic Tiles"

Web: https://polawickham.com/