Engaging ritualism

My uncle made the press release of his book yesterday and asked me to record it, but mainly help him with the preparatives. It was amazing. But I don’t want to spoil my dreams telling the story again.
It reminded me my old rituals, my ways to go, my motto’s by doing simple things. Drinking tea with a plate below the cup, play with smoke instead of smoking (game that wasn’t amusing enough and became a nice remember) or using gloves to wash the dishes. Time disappears with rituals; fades away in front of my anti-clockwork like rituals. Making a ritual as it weren’t. Maybe that’s my key to kill time.
I kindly remember my bed-time ritual in Chile. Was the greatest and most magnificent expression of farewell, being yogi tea the hallucinative drug to reach the unreachable state of mind, the light clothes called pajamas as cruiser through seas of nothingness and the tobacco as the wood burning on the tallest mount waving the gracious, but ethereal, goodbye. All from my window, with the gulf as witness and usually the rain as laughing hyaena. Damn did I sleep well after it.

Quiéres un caramelo?*
Sleep well,


* Would you like a sugarcoated item?

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