I'm not afraid, all is forgiven

I would take the car down main street Rincón to a certain payphone, and I would hunt for a certain kind of phone card. I would get there in the 40 C heat and dial your number. And try to be close to you. I would sit down on the dirty sidewalk, holding the receiver. Listening. I loved your voice, and the femininity of it.
I would miss every single spectacular sunset, described in the Lonely Planet, to talk to you. I gladly did.


Again and again over the years I would listen to you babbling on and thinking; „God, how I love your voice“. And then you would laugh out.
And I used to love that too...