This street, that man, this life

No hay muchas sensaciones comparables con la de dibujar por la noche, con el ruido de los coches pasando bajo la ventana, abriendose paso entre la lluvia, las conversaciones tranquilas y susurradas con mi marido al ordenador al otro lado de la mesa y estar descalza con la calefacción puesta. Me hace recordar una charla de hace muchos años con mi amigo Jorge, en la que nos poníamos de acuerdo en que la música perfecta para las noches de lluvia era la de Cowboy Junkies. Con un rotulador en la mano van apareciendo figuras sobre el papel y dentro de mí se van formando nuestras historias con sus bandas sonoras.

There aren't many sensations comparable to drawing at night, with the noise of the street, of the cars passing by my window piercing the rain; to quiet and whispered conversations with my husband sitting at the computer on the other side of the table; to being barefoot and with the heating on. It reminds me of a long time talk with my friend Jorge, in which we agree to the perfect music for a rainy night: Cowboy Junkies'. With a pen in my hand some characters appear on the blank paper and stories get shaped inside me with their own original soundtracks.

Sun comes up, it's Tuesday morning

hits me straight in the eyeguess you forgot to close the blind last night

Oh, that's right, I forgot, it was me

I sure do miss the smell of black coffee in the morning,

the sound of water splashing all over the bathroom,

the kiss that you would give me even though I was sleeping,

but I kind of like the feel of this extra few feet in my bed

Telephone's ringing, but I don't answer it

'cause everybody knows that good news always sleeps till noon

Guess it's tea and toast for breakfast again

maybe I'll add a little T.V. too

No milk! God, how I hate that

Guess I'll go to the corner, get breakfast from Jenny

She's got a black eye this morning, `Jen how'd ya get it?'

she says, `Last night, Bobby got a little bit out of hand'

Lunchtime. I start to dial your number

then I remember so I reach for something to smoke

and anyways I'd rather listen to Coltrane

than go through all that shit again

There's something about an afternoon spent doing nothing

Just listening to records and watching the sun falling

Thinking of things that don't have to add up to something

and this spell won't be broken

by the sound of keys scraping in the lock

Maybe tonight it's a movie

with plenty of room for elbows and knees, a bag of popcorn all to myself,

black and white with a strong female lead

and if I don't like it, no debate, I'll leave

Here comes that feeling that I'd forgotten

how strange these streets feelwhen you're alone on them

Each pair of eyes just filled with suggestion

So I lower my head, make a beeline for home. Seething inside

Funny, I'd never noticedthe sound the streetcars make as they pass my window

Which reminds me that I forgot to close the blind again

Yeah, sure I'll admit there are times when I miss you

Especially like now when I need someone to hold me

but there are some things that can never be forgiven

and I just gotta tell you

that I kinda like this extra few feet in my bed

- Sun comes up, it's tuesday morning. Cowboy Junkies