This text is by Maia Asshaq in her capacity and does not, necessarily, reflect the views of different infinite mile contributors, infinite mile co-founders, the author's employer and/or other author affiliations.
|Translation of Convenience*|
|I do not know who gave me a vision that I could not sleep.
I keep trying to get out of here, but it is very difficult.
I think I'm ready for next week.
I met a woman who lived in Berlin to see if it will be your next home.
Currently, she is a nomad and says the river is below 10 degrees.
She has a health problem that prevents you from living in the cold before studying art.
The troubadour this evening came and introduced himself.
He asked me where I was from and I asked him to shoot.
His name is Franko.
He lives just 10 km from the river, near the sea ... even if we aren't very close it's nice.
He asked how clay works.
I know my voice coming out of it.
He turned his cigarette and wore a black T-shirt and jeans with a hoodie zip.
His hair is long enough to wear in a ponytail and a cut-short beard.
He wore black shoes, but I do not think that the shoes can be used too.
I felt a bit 'stupid, because he stood on the door for a minute to say Hello! (Before tonight this was our only interaction)
and if I could not hear what I'm asking is repeated three or four times.
I do not know if this is a street musician.
Here means the same as the same., but again, it's not exactly what it means to exist.
He played the same two songs over and over again with a cigarette break and chats with some passers-by, or a man who is usually on it ....
He worked for an evolutionary biologist.
His job was to look for bone fragments through a microscope and hand.
At this time, there is an entire section devoted to research at the University.
It seems very young, so I do not know the time.
He has no money, so I'm going to travel by boat.
We do not share contact, but do know where I live and I'm sure we'll see if it works.
The smoke is more than usual.
The stress of being away from myself.
Everyone smokes here, but I'm not worried, in fact I love it.
Give me the breaking of a pack of cigarettes, the open side that is black.
I bought another package that opens from the top, as usual.
This package is also black.
I walk down the hill to the castle.
I'll sit and have a drink there.
I'll see all the men look at women who share my name.
When I'm not here, this is a way to pass fast to the point where love is not love, it's just love.
To defend the truth or say before you go that for us, it is wrong.
I was told that unions are an antidote to stress.
I am a believer and a great reliever.
I heard my voice more often and usually do what I want most in this gallery.
Someone told me that I should be on the radio, I think it means he believes to be wrong.
I can make my voice as now, but I'm serious.
Maybe I'll take a train to speak clearly.
A train to the list a mile long of things I want to do.
It is rare that I think a lot.
I do not remember anyone thinking what I think about Franko.
Perhaps because he is so easy to access, even if he is just beyond every day.
Even if you see the same bar every night.
Even if you have seen the market every morning.
I wonder if I'll miss him when I'm gone, I'm missing something now.
This is what happens when you leave the place where we stayed for a while.
I can not hate it, but at least one thing I miss.
I wonder if mine will miss his.
* The first and only performance of Translation of Convenience, held on March 5, 2013, featured musical accompaniment by Paul Bancell and was part of Underword, a poetic occasion for musicians and poets to showcase collaborative work at the main branch of the Detroit Public Library.