{"id":2482,"date":"2025-09-12T13:35:54","date_gmt":"2025-09-12T13:35:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/?p=2482"},"modified":"2025-09-12T13:43:23","modified_gmt":"2025-09-12T13:43:23","slug":"inventario-del-regreso","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/inventario-del-regreso\/","title":{"rendered":"4- Inventario del regreso"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>Volver a <strong>Cipolletti<\/strong> fue como subir desde un s\u00f3tano inundado y abrir la puerta a un <strong>invierno sin colores<\/strong>. El aire entra <strong>afilado<\/strong>, se mete en la ropa, se planta en el estern\u00f3n y tiembla. Mis viejos ya no son materia de estudio: <strong>son personas<\/strong>. Les veo el <strong>miedo en las manos<\/strong>, las <strong>frustraciones dobladas<\/strong> dentro de los cajones, <strong>sue\u00f1os detenidos<\/strong> como mi taza favorita con una grieta m\u00ednima.<br>En la mesa, hablamos <strong>de frente<\/strong>. Descubro que el dolor que llevo <strong>no es solo m\u00edo<\/strong>: tambi\u00e9n est\u00e1 en las fotos de la abuela, en el hueco del sill\u00f3n que ya no ocupa, en la forma en que callamos cuando alguien dice su nombre. Ese <strong>n\u00facleo<\/strong> que cre\u00ed roto sigue encendido <strong>en los gestos<\/strong>: un plato servido, un mensaje de madrugada, alguien que pone agua para el mate sin preguntar.<br>El fin de semana anterior me parti\u00f3 un <strong>piso falso<\/strong>: pens\u00e9 que era quiebre, fue <strong>renacer torpe<\/strong>. El mundo pide una <strong>valent\u00eda<\/strong> que no tengo, as\u00ed que ofrezco lo que s\u00ed: <strong>agallas<\/strong>. Traigo al adolescente que fui, lo siento en el borde de la cama y le digo <strong>mir\u00e1<\/strong>: cambi\u00f3 la casa, cambi\u00e9 yo, cambi\u00f3 la familia. Las <strong>presiones<\/strong> de antes eran <strong>traumas<\/strong> con uniforme; hoy nadie me apunta. La <strong>felicidad<\/strong> dej\u00f3 de ser mala palabra: es <strong>trabajo<\/strong> y <strong>direcci\u00f3n<\/strong>.<br>Para llegar al <strong>Mandalay<\/strong> que imagino, no alcanza con ordenar la pieza: hay que <strong>desmontar la estructura<\/strong> que me salv\u00f3 de chico y me destruye de grande. Si sigo igual, muero <strong>en cuotas<\/strong>. Elijo vivir <strong>a pulm\u00f3n<\/strong>: con la piel erizada por el fr\u00edo del valle y <strong>la espalda apoyada<\/strong> en esta mesa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Volver a Cipolletti fue como subir desde un s\u00f3tano inundado y abrir la puerta a un invierno sin colores. El aire entra afilado, se mete en la ropa, se planta en el estern\u00f3n y tiembla. Mis viejos ya no son materia de estudio: son personas. Les veo el miedo en las manos, las frustraciones dobladas [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[12,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2482","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-camino-al-mandalay","category-escritos"],"uagb_featured_image_src":{"full":false,"thumbnail":false,"medium":false,"medium_large":false,"large":false,"1536x1536":false,"2048x2048":false},"uagb_author_info":{"display_name":"Francisco Gonzalez","author_link":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/author\/francis\/"},"uagb_comment_info":0,"uagb_excerpt":"Volver a Cipolletti fue como subir desde un s\u00f3tano inundado y abrir la puerta a un invierno sin colores. El aire entra afilado, se mete en la ropa, se planta en el estern\u00f3n y tiembla. Mis viejos ya no son materia de estudio: son personas. Les veo el miedo en las manos, las frustraciones dobladas&hellip;","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2482","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2482"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2482\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2504,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2482\/revisions\/2504"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2482"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2482"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2482"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}