Tore del Pozo

Memoir entry 001

He lingers on the corner, glancing up and down the empty street, hands tucked into his hoodie. This spot isn’t his usual scene, but he’s waiting—keeping a low profile, eyes sharp for the next move. It’s quiet now, but in this line of work, you never know when things will pick up.

Memoir entry 002

They stand there, side by side, but the silence says it all. Once inseparable, moving through life together, now they’re just two strangers in the shadows, knowing it's time to part ways. The streets have drawn their line; it’s clear they’ll each have to find a different path forward.

Memoir entry 003

He hovers outside the deli, eyes fixed on the bright doorway, craving the warmth and shelter inside. But life’s got him loaded down, bags and boxes weighing heavy on his shoulders, reminding him that sometimes, getting through the door isn’t as easy as it looks.

Memoir entry 004

He sways in the dimly lit corridor, head spinning, grasping at fragments of last night. Everything's a blur—the laughter, the bright lights, the noise—now replaced by this silent, endless hallway. He leans against the wall, trying to piece together how he wandered so far from where he belongs.

Memoir entry 005

He waits beneath the balcony, caught between the pavement and the bushes, longing for a glimpse of his other half. Days turn into nights, but she never appears, leaving him stranded in this tragic romance. Like a lover abandoned, he leans against the edge, hoping against hope that fate will change its course.

Memoir entry 006

They stand close, but it's more out of habit than trust. They’ve been through too much—loaded up, tied down, left to fend for themselves—and it's taken its toll. Now, they lean on each other, but with resentment simmering underneath, both wondering who will break away first.

Memoir entry 007

One minute, he's on steady ground, following the usual path; the next, he’s toppled over, caught between a fence and a drop-off. Life’s like that sometimes—flips you on your head and leaves you staring at the sky, wondering how everything changed so quickly.

Memoir entry 008

She’s wandered far, carrying all that she owns, piling it up like a makeshift shelter. Nestled against the hill, with leaves and trash strewn around, she keeps telling herself this could be home. Deep down, she knows it’s not, but she stays, searching for belonging in places that never quite fit.

Memoir entry 009

They cluster together in the lot, silent but close, like a group of friends who’ve been through too much to drift apart. The day’s heat bounces off their frames, and they just stay there, side by side, sharing the kind of quiet company that only real friends understand. No need for words—being here, together, is enough.

Memoir entry 010

He sits in the open, rusted but unbowed, that bold ‘S’ on his chest gleaming in the sun. It’s like he’s daring the world to test him, standing tall with the quiet, unshakeable confidence of a hero. Battered by the elements, maybe, but he's still got that steel in his frame, unbreakable as ever.

Memoir entry 011

He tucks himself between the palms, basking in the shadows as if hiding from the world. The sun glints off his red frame, but he's got his spot, hoping to stay unseen just a little longer. It’s a game he’s learned well—ducking out of sight, enjoying the thrill of being found… or not.

Memoir entry 012

He stands in front of the house, looking a bit out of place, like someone locked out after a long night. It used to feel like home, this front path, but now it’s tense and uncertain. He lingers there, unsure if he’s welcome, caught between the comfort of the past and the trouble that lingers in the air.

Memoir entry 013

They stand shoulder to shoulder, faces blank, hands hanging at their sides, part of the assembly line grind. But his mind wanders; he imagines himself far from this place, walking under bright lights, hearing laughter that isn’t drowned out by the clanking machinery. It’s a fleeting escape, a little rebellion in his thoughts, reminding him there’s more to life than this endless line and the weight of routine.

Memoir entry 014

They find themselves side by side on the wet pavement, not by choice, but by chance. Years have passed since they were last this close, and now, in the rain, their silence is louder than ever. It’s as if they’re screaming at each other without words, every rusted mark and faded sign a reminder of how far they’ve drifted apart—and yet, here they are, unable to truly leave each other behind.

Memoir entry 015

Overburdened and sagging, he leans against the curb, a makeshift shelter of discarded things. He was never meant to carry so much, to endure so many storms, yet here he is, weathering it all with a quiet resignation. The “No Parking” sign above looms like a cruel reminder: there’s no place for him, not here, not anywhere.

Memoir entry 016

He stands alone at the edge of the wild, facing the open sky with a heavy heart. The city is far in the distance, a world he once knew, now fading into memory. Out here, surrounded by trees and dirt, he waits, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’ll find a new path, though the loneliness grows with every passing day.

Memoir entry 017

He’s lying on the sidewalk, face down, drained of energy, like someone who just lost everything in a single moment. The world keeps moving around him, cars whizzing by, pedestrians passing without a glance. He used to walk tall, but now, with nothing left, he wonders if he’ll ever stand up again.

Memoir entry 018

He’s stopped on the crowded sidewalk, hiding away against the nearest phone booth, catching his breath. The city buzzes around him, people hurrying to places he can’t even imagine. He’s not in a rush; he just needs a minute to gather himself, to feel anything other than exhaustion.

Memoir entry 019

She stands in the center of the vast, empty lot, feeling the weight of expectations pressing down on her. It’s like the world handed her this role, this space, with no guide on how to navigate it. She knows she’s capable, more than capable, but the silence around her whispers doubts, reminding her how often she's been made to feel small in shoes that were never designed for her to fill.

Memoir entry 020

He’s backed into the corner, heart pounding, wishing he could rewind every bad choice that got him here. The bushes behind him scratch at his back, like all the warnings he ignored, and the curb in front feels like a barrier he can’t cross. He thought he had it all figured out, but now he’s stuck, staring at a road that suddenly feels way too narrow.

Memoir entry 021

He’s out on the curb just as the first light spills over the horizon. The streets are empty, except for a car or two, and the air carries the promise of a new day. It’s early, too early, but there’s something about these quiet mornings that makes him feel alive, like maybe today could be different.

Memoir entry 022

She stands at the edge of the rooftop, bags resting at her side, eyes fixed on the city skyline. Today’s been long, endless really, and now all she wants is a moment to catch her breath. The view out here is quiet, almost peaceful—a reminder that there’s more beyond the grind she pushes through every single day.

Memoir entry 023

He leans against the rusted container, looking over his shoulder at the cracked pavement. It’s not the safest spot, but it’s familiar, with its mix of rust and shadows. Out here in the alleys, you learn to keep your guard up; trust is just a word, not something you can afford to have too much of.

Memoir entry 024

She pauses by the puddle, watching her own reflection ripple against the backdrop of palm trees. Memories flood back—the laughter, the places she used to go, the person she used to be. It’s bittersweet, standing here, caught between the past and the present, with nothing but her reflection to keep her company.

Memoir entry 025

She walks through the aisles, eyes darting between racks of jackets and rows of dresses, a rush of excitement mixed with exhaustion. It’s her ritual, a way to escape reality, trying on pieces of someone else’s life. She knows she’s pushing it, adding one more item to the cart, but for now, it’s her own form of therapy.

Memoir entry 026

She stays in the shadows, hiding behind the wooden poles, barely visible in the dim light. People pass by, not noticing her, and she prefers it that way. It’s safer here, blending into the background, not drawing attention to herself—just watching, waiting for the moment she feels ready to step out into the world.

Memoir entry 027

He stands still, his son balanced high on his shoulders, tiny hands holding on tight. They pause by the signpost, taking in the view—the worn cart, the wild palms—symbols of life’s unpredictability. With each step forward, he hopes the boy feels the strength in his stride, learning that every path, no matter how rugged, is worth exploring together.

Memoir entry 028

He stands alone in the darkness, the streetlights barely touching his frame. It’s cold and quiet, but he isn’t fazed; he’s used to this solitude, this sense of being on his own. He doesn’t need the spotlight, he carries his own glow, enough to remind him he’s more than just another shadow in the night.

Memoir entry 029

He leans against the fence, shoulders slumped under the weight of all he’s gathered. A few dishes, a faded jacket, bits of a life once lived more freely. There's no rush, nowhere he really needs to be—just a quiet spot where he can pause, letting the silence soak in, while the city moves on without noticing.

Memoir entry 030

The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows on the pavement as I stood there, half-buried in the chaos around me. It's one of those nights—you know the kind, where every corner feels like an unspoken warning. I’m tired of running, dodging the reality that chases me, but here I am again, tangled up in my own mess with nothing but an empty road ahead.

Memoir entry 031

I curled up underneath the bench, hidden from the world above. People walked by, unaware of my presence, like ghosts crossing paths. It was peaceful in a strange way, lying there in the shadows, hoping maybe for just one night, I could disappear and nobody would even notice.