Txema Rodríguez

Who are you?
Where am I?
Don’t tell me I have the age I deserve.
I slowly crossed the street.
I slowly took the spoon to the mouth.
I wanted to be clean this morning.
I wanted fresh lavander water on my hair.
Who is that staring at me from the other side?
How did you get me to this noisy place?
Where do we come from?
What is your name?
I feel like drowning, so confused.
How is that thing called.
In his hands.
Take me home, I don’t want to be late.
You look familiar. What’s your name?
I can’t remember your name.
Don’t stare at me.
Where’s my soup?
What happened to the table?