RESTAURANTE

El mundo se está cayendo en pedazos pero siempre se está cayendo y nunca cae.

El mundo no se está. Es el techo de esta cocina lo que tiembla salitre se come las paredes hace vibrar las cazuelas y parece que caen pero no caen.

Cocinamos en silencio es decir no hablamos pero nuestros ruidos llenan el espacio como un vapor pegajoso.

El mundo nos está friendo en polvo derrumbe en tabla de picar cuchillos ajo el mundo se nos está pero nunca cae ahora caigo en que aún caídas en lo inminente las cosas nunca caen porque nunca dejan de porque las cosas siempre cayendo.

Iván Soto Camba

The world is falling but it’s always falling and never falls.

The world is not. It’s the roof in this kitchen that shakes salt residue eats the walls makes the pots vibrate and they seem to fall but don’t fall.

We cook in silence that is we don’t talk but our noises fill the space like a sticky vapor

The world is frypanning us in dust avalanche on the cutting board knives garlic the world around us is but never fall now I realize that you still fall into the imminent the things never fall because they never stop because the things always falling.

Translation: Kimrey Anna Batts

You need ghostliness in your DNA to appreciate the interiority of things, to pollinate cache with your thoughts, impregnate light with your shadow. You need the lightfootedness of fey creatures who vie for their shapes in your dreams, not the practiced elegance of ballerinas, Even then the essence of the vessel runs out, leaving you to cracked artifacts and forlorn forensics. You fondled the tumblers and drifted through the keyhole and now have a few seconds to decide what to do before shapeliness subsides and you are left outside, frantic, lost again, bereft, not quite up for this again.

Djelloul Marbrook