New York City

"To feel the breeze

while I walk your streets.

To look around

and hear any sound,

makes me, here alone,

feel like I was home.

I see your people & realize

in each of them one smile,

in all their faces,

different kinds & races

and in all their bodies,

different feelings

and some worries.

It is, to me, easy to arise

in you country of mine.

When following your dream

things turn easier than they seem.

And you don't feel the cold

when down comes the snow.

I can see your pain

when falling is the rain.

But, on the other hand,

while walking through your land,

I know those tears of yours

are happy tears of joy.

And at the same time,

the joy is mine.

For being able to survive,

and even if I scream 

when following my dream,

I'm in New York, here, alive."

I am very fond of this poem. Every writing has a story underneath but this one is a treasure for me. Maybe I appreciate it so much because it is still naïve. Or it may be because it was the first time I did not change a thing after revising a poem, I wrote it in one sitting, in one go. It felt like it had been already written before I even took the piece of paper and my pencil. I was 19 years old, and I had just came from my second trip to NY, this time I had the chance to spend some hours alone at cafés, streets, parks and I saw the city in a different way. I noticed people's faces for the first time and I tried to guess their dreams and worries. So, when I landed in Barcelona, got home, left my bagpack, picked a piece of paper and a pencil, went out to the street... I took a walk and a few minutes later I sat down on a bench to capture what I had seen in New York this time.

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A este poema le tengo un cariño especial. Todos los escritos tienen una historia tras ellos, pero éste es para mi un tesoro. Quizás porque fue el primer poema que escribí del tirón, en una sentada y sin tener que cambiar nada al revisarlo. Un pelín ingenuo y puede que también sea por eso que le tengo tanto aprecio. Fue como si estuviera ya escrito antes de coger papel y lápiz. Lo escribí tras llegar de mi segundo viaje a NY, tenia 19 años, pasé algunas horas sola en cafés, calles, parques y vi las cosas de un modo diferente. Algo hizo clic en mi esa vez, sentí la ciudad de una manera distinta, observé por primera vez las caras de la gente e intenté adivinar sus sueños y preocupaciones. Entonces al aterrizar en Barcelona y entrar en casa, dejé la mochila, cogi papel y lapiz, salí a la calle... paseé y tras unos minutos me senté en un banco a plasmar lo que habia apreciado en Nueva York esta vez.