This week I was thinking about how much I like listening to Nick Cave.

I listen to a lot of music every day, but always, the one I most choose to return to is Nick Cave.

These days, the song I most “need” to feel is The Mercy Seat, and I can find no logical reason for it except that I feel immersed in a brutal end-of-stage moment.

And feeling like this is like being in a large waiting room, in an immense waiting room. A single empty waiting room where I only feel that I am there. In complete solitude in this darkness, waiting for someone to come in and give me an answer.

Someone who gives me all the answers I hope to receive soon.

And I think that being here, in this immense darkness, is not at all fair after all the path travelled.

The exhaustion from the sacrifice made is extremely devastating, destructive, annihilating, and the wound of one who does not recover flows in silence, hidden from the eyes of the rest.

With time I have learned that justice is slow and has an extraordinarily poetic beauty.

And that this implicit sacrifice to survive in this darkness, in this stillness of solitude, is also part of the movement that waiting time represents.

To survive the darkness, to survive the solitude, to survive the silence, to survive the waiting.

To survive is to ignore who does not see, does not feel, does not understand.

To survive is to continue writing.

To survive is to earn a place.

To survive is to wait for an answer.

To survive is all of this, and it is also to listen to Nick.

And to continue in movement within this waiting room, for as long as this sacrifice lasts.

And to keep chipping away at stone, a stone that we know is never fully chipped away.

And we know that there are many ways of chipping stone, and my way has not always been the healthiest, the fairest, the most logical, the most envied.

And to wait for someone to knock on the door, on the window panes, on the telephone, on the email and say… look, come, it is here.

The answer is here, and it is this. Go on. You have arrived.

And yes, it is a first step to continue chipping stone, to continue surviving, it is here, in this place, in this other waiting room where there is more light and you are no longer alone, because here we are waiting for you and there are many more of us waiting here.

You are no longer alone and you have, at least, one answer.

To survive, The Mercy Seat, and this chipping of stone in this immense, dark, eternal waiting room.

I recommend listening to Nick Cave, The Mercy Seat, which was also performed by Johnny Cash, but I need to listen more to that acoustic version by Nick Cave in B-Sides & Rarities, like a strange ironic wink of life… and yes, listen to it on the darkest and loneliest night of your stage.