The year is 2017. You are polyamorous and active in your neighbourhood assembly. Because of the book En defensa de Afrodita  (Tigre de Paper, 2017), you find yourself in a relationship with a boy who is, at the same time, involved with another girl. Your boyfriend's other girlfriend is older than you, more polyamorous than you, active in two different neighbourhood assemblies —even though that makes absolutely no sense— and shows up at every eviction protest wearing Adidas leggings and a leopard-print T-shirt from Humana. You become obsessed with her. You hate her. You want to be like her.

Through Instagram, you discover that she likes CRIM. You start listening to them to see whether you can enter her psyche. Think like her. Speak like her. You wish the two of you could merge into a single person. Maybe then the Adidas leggings would suit you. But the closest you can get is listening to her favourite band. You become hooked on the infectious vocal harmonies, the straightforward lyrics, and the fast-paced rhythms.

Many years later, you are no longer polyamorous, nor are you active in your neighbourhood assembly. You have not heard anything about the beautiful girl who once obsessed you for a long time. You wonder what she is doing now. Whether she still attends eviction protests wearing Adidas leggings and a leopard-print T-shirt, or whether she has an office job like everyone else. Whether she still likes CRIM. Whether you might run into her at the concert. Whether she would remember you. Whether you would greet each other. Whether you would ignore each other. Or whether you would simply exchange a fleeting glance and see in one another a series of holes filled in with cement.
 

Indigo Carbajal "Indicatiu"

Screenwriter and comedian