{"id":2491,"date":"2025-09-12T13:39:21","date_gmt":"2025-09-12T13:39:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/?p=2491"},"modified":"2025-09-12T13:43:37","modified_gmt":"2025-09-12T13:43:37","slug":"ritual-de-patio","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/ritual-de-patio\/","title":{"rendered":"7- Ritual de patio"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p>1:43 AM. <strong>Jazz peque\u00f1o<\/strong> en volumen bajo. El patio <strong>respira vapor<\/strong>. El cigarro es <strong>metr\u00f3nomo<\/strong>. Me siento <strong>rodeado de m\u00ed<\/strong>: el que se va, el que insiste, el que <strong>niega<\/strong>, el que <strong>todav\u00eda ama<\/strong>. Invito a <strong>Mara<\/strong> con una <strong>silla vac\u00eda<\/strong>; el vaso de agua deja <strong>un c\u00edrculo<\/strong> en la mesa.<br>Los <strong>anillos<\/strong> duermen en la palma de la mano; pesan m\u00e1s de lo que parecen. Paso el dedo y queda <strong>brillo de metal<\/strong>. Le digo a mi versi\u00f3n adolescente que <strong>no vamos a mendigar<\/strong>. Le digo al h\u00e9roe que <strong>cuelgue la capa<\/strong>. Le digo al que fuma por nervio que <strong>fume por pensar<\/strong>.<br>Mi madre ser\u00e1 <strong>guardiana<\/strong> de lo que fue: los anillos, una foto chiquita, una carta sin firma. No quiero que el pasado se tire: quiero <strong>guardarlo bien<\/strong>. El ritual es simple: <strong>contacto final<\/strong> si corresponde, <strong>despedida<\/strong> si no. Cualquiera sea la respuesta, el camino es el mismo: <strong>soltar<\/strong>.<br>La casa huele a <strong>madera h\u00fameda<\/strong> y a <strong>recuerdo tibio<\/strong>. Siento <strong>\u00e1cido<\/strong> en el est\u00f3mago, <strong>mand\u00edbula cansada<\/strong>, un <strong>zumbido<\/strong> detr\u00e1s de las orejas. Respiro. Cuando el humo escribe <strong>punto final<\/strong>, no lo interrumpo. Lo veo sostenerse m\u00e1s de lo que deber\u00eda y <strong>no romperse<\/strong>. Pienso: tal vez yo tambi\u00e9n.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>1:43 AM. Jazz peque\u00f1o en volumen bajo. El patio respira vapor. El cigarro es metr\u00f3nomo. Me siento rodeado de m\u00ed: el que se va, el que insiste, el que niega, el que todav\u00eda ama. Invito a Mara con una silla vac\u00eda; el vaso de agua deja un c\u00edrculo en la mesa.Los anillos duermen en la [&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-2491","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":"1:43 AM. Jazz peque\u00f1o en volumen bajo. El patio respira vapor. El cigarro es metr\u00f3nomo. Me siento rodeado de m\u00ed: el que se va, el que insiste, el que niega, el que todav\u00eda ama. Invito a Mara con una silla vac\u00eda; el vaso de agua deja un c\u00edrculo en la mesa.Los anillos duermen en la&hellip;","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2491","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=2491"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2491\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2507,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2491\/revisions\/2507"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2491"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2491"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/franciscogonzalez.com.ar\/escritos\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2491"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}