In Guaynabo, Ramon Polanco would sit on a white plastic chair on the patio after having finished gardening for the day.

A serene grump you found dignified. It was easy to be quiet in his company. He was a good person to project upon. You’ve named yourself in moments of invited projection after him.

You're thinking of him, and on the projection you wish to invite, waiting for a ride from Alphabet City to upstate. Beat up Benz perhaps. Later, looking out onto a chilly day in wintry Spain with an irradiated sky so blue it's finite, you think of the cracked leather of the passenger seat. You smoke and eat salted fish.

Don't be cruel in your reminiscing. The fires outside are yours to tend to.

- 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐨


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Written, produced and performed by Alec Mateo

Master by Kane Ikin

Special thanks - Familia / Mis Amores