perfect day

I think I miss my friend, Valerie. I think I know this because I am obsessed with a song by The Cranberries. Yes, another one. Unless you are one of the two people who lived with me in a triple room for two years in university, you probably have no clue what I am talking about. Let me explain.

One sunny day, Valerie, cheerfully and unsuspectingly, played a CD by The Cranberries. Instantly I became addicted to "When You're Gone." It made me feel so sad. And I felt sad at the time, most of the time, at university. Listening to a sad song helped because I could hear the pain echoed back, just a little.

Valerie and Khanh can swear to the fact that I played that song over and over and over, to no relief. Hundreds, thousands—no it must have been millions!—of times I played "When You're Gone" (and to this day, I still don't know the words to the whole song).

I recently returned from a trip to Argentina. On my previous trips out of Lima, I had always been glad to return: from Venezuela, from Cusco, from Chile, from Cusco again, from Trujillo and Chiclayo. Not this time. This time is different. I am not glad to be back in Lima. Instead, I want to be back in Argentina.

Who knows why this is. In any case, I've been in a slump, for more than a week. I have sequestered myself in my room and have been playing—it seems endlessly—this second song that Valerie gifted me (accidentally).

For Valerie:

I had a dream
Strange it may seem
It was my perfect day

Open my eyes
I realize
This is my perfect day

Hope you’ll never grow old
Hope you’ll never grow old
Hope you’ll never grow old
Hope you’ll never grow old

Birds in the sky
Feeling so high
This is my perfect day

I feel the breeze
I feel at ease
It is my perfect day

Hope you’ll never grow old
Hope you’ll never grow old
Hope you’ll never grow old
Hope you’ll never grow old

Forever young
I hope you’ll stay
Forever young