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Arts & Communication A mean, the body. A mean body

sleepovers since we were in middle school. It was on the A time warp. A timeless loss. And if it is timeless, then it
eleventh floor, right? All is a bit blurry, but I do not want is not lost. Walking the distance, that distance I needed to
to ask anyone. The 11 floor, according to Chilean building measure, had nothing to do with you. It was more about
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traditions — not even laws — would mean that you were companionship, and it was about me. Measuring me
at about 30 m or so, approximately 100 feet high. From outside my body this time. How do we move when there is
there, you grounded yourself. On Monday March 7, 2022, nothing left to hold? (bis).
María Belén Nazar Rodriguez passed away. It took you a
hundred feet. I have been needing to ground myself lately, 7. When do we stop climbing?
too, in the literal sense of it, to put my feet on the ground. The other day, I was observing kids at one of the playgrounds
Real ground, the one where grass grows from. Looking in Morningside Park in Harlem, and what they all did
at the floor plans in my memory, you landed on grass as was climb. Climb up and down, side to side, using the
well. To get my feet to real ground, I walk to Morningside equipment as an excuse. It is funny (?); I was looking for
Park. The fastest route is to walk to Amsterdam Avenue the colloquial word for the playground in Spanish, juegos,
by 112 Street (where I live now), turn left and walk until which would translate to “games” directly, but they do not
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113 Street, turn right, cross Amsterdam, and walk until call them that here apparently. Play area, but that term does
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Morningside Drive. Cross. And there is an entrance to the not specifically refer to the juego itself. “Equipment” feels
park, a couple of steps down. I take my shoes off and walk too serious. It left me wondering: When does gravity win us
on the ground. It takes me approximately thirteen hundred over? And instead of climbing, we just want to hang. To feel
feet to get my feet to the ground, the real ground. It takes our weight, to be limited and comforted by gravity. And
me thirteen times what it took you that day. Coincidences, if we do not climb anymore, the playgrounds are clearly
or may be I unconsciously made it fit, but it does, look it not our spaces anymore. Neither are the benches around
up. I now look up at you. I was born on a thirteenth, you it. I think the benches are designed to keep us aware of the
were born on a 13 , funny. kids, the kids who climb.
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Thirteen it is. When does one become too heavy but strong enough
I sewed scrap pieces of fabric from the sandbags I had to push doors? To push boxes, to push a stroller, to push
not thrown away. I never do; they are most likely borders a wheelchair (if you think about it, anytime a kid pushes a
protected from molds. The outside of the mold, what is wheelchair, the kid is playing, and if the kid is not playing,
left on the other side of the sewing, what does not contain. then they are not a kid anymore…), to carry others, but
not ourselves for a climb. Noodle climbers, vine climbers,
They are commonly longitudinal. That helped in shaping flip-flop climbers, monkey bars, hanging ladders, net
the rope. I sewed a hundred-foot-long rope. I then tied all rope ladders, and so on; they are all grids. Jumping and
the other small pieces of fabric (that were too little or no crossing from one space to the other, in no apparent order,
longitudinal) in knots, distanced a palm from each other the climbing kid defies the grid. So many times that you
(finally using the imperial units’ system — wait, no, only cannot really predict any move. Monkey bars and single
feet and thumbs have units). It ended up looking like those ladders could be the closest to an exception (because they
kids’ illustrated books, depicting the image of the rope have a very clear path to be followed, to reach from one end
the princess throws from the tower, also made from scrap
fabric (clothes), for the prince to come up and save her.
Or like Rapunzel throwing her hair, also with some sort of
knots or ties, as I remember, for the prince to climb. I am
not your prince; that was never our deal. And I have come
to realize I could not have gone to get you either. I can only
imaginarily travel with you to ground both of us. Thirteen
times you and me (Figure 6). I lay the rope 13 times until I
get to the park and make a mark between every segment I
must recollect and move forward. As of now, I draw a little
wave with chalk. You loved that.
Pujol stated in one of his texts that in nature, nothing
is ever lost, and that we somehow exist at the same time
with the past, present, and future . It is hard to truly
[13]
embrace this thought right now, but at the same time, Figure 6. Thirteen times you and me, photographic documentation of
it makes so much sense. That is how I feel about you. performance (New York, April 6, 2022.)

Volume 1 Issue 2 (2023) 8 https://doi.org/10.36922/ac.1137