persiguiendo el sol
now listening: Some days, it slipped through blinds uninvited, flattening itself into thin, bronze strips on my wall. Other days, when it didn't come to me first, I chased after it, let it lather my skin in syrupy gold. But as soon as I grew comfortable in its golden company, it'd remind me of its inevitable… fickleness . On lazy mid-afternoons, it did not saunter in. No, it blazed with no regard for subtlety with the vain blue sky as its accompaniment, practically blinding my line of sight. Yet I still sought after it with unmatched fervor. The sun is always more a guest than anything else—a guest I was and am embarrassingly eager for the company of, whose visits I preserve in my camera. Even when it plays hard to get, hiding beneath clouds or dropping mere flecks of sunlight onto the sidewalk, I continue "persiguiendo el sol," chasing the sun, in hopes to capture even a sliver of its beauty in time (Alvaro Soler, David Bisbal, "A Contracorriente"). But I...
