Words and photography by Ray Litsala – IG: @ray.litsala
Translation by Alicia Marin
Girl: Jessica
“I am a wanderer of life, because I do not know where my place is. Could I buy my place as if it was just a theatre ticket?
This is the theatre of my life: should I pay for seeing a play in which I act in, in which I mess up?
An alien between all of you, I can’t even find a peasant to offer me some cabbage soup. This world is unpleasant.
I’ve lost myself in society; I am a needle in a haystack. No soul good enough to show me my way, so I curl up in a corner.
They said “what you look for doesn’t exist”. I don’t believe that!
I’m contemplating the map of the sky to guide me. It’s as useful as using glue over my broken heart to fix it. Point is: I have no sense of orientation. The vane that goes around in every sense: the head. Don’t you have the feeling that you’re going mad because all your feelings unsettle you?
Without a compass, I go from here to there to find the lock to my treble clef.
I don’t know whom to ask for my way. The Ursa Major is hibernating, and the storm has broken my map of the sky. Not the best idea to travel at night. But, oh, how long am I going to have to wait for the day to start in my life. In my life, light up by fireflies. ¡Wow! My luck depends on those creatures. I hope that there’s at least a hidden fairy in a cloud of light. A cloud that gives me dreams: those dreams are the fog on the lenses of my glasses.
I’m like you. Insignificant on Earth, like a grain of sand in the desert. But me, I imagine that all the stars are my public. My role is to be a wanderer of life.”
