On the border of seduction by Lucia Duero

An essay about being on the border of a situation.


At the back of your mind, you are someone else.

While desire remains an unresolved philosophical question, I am seducing my own will to follow my firm decisions, as it gallops forward on two different horses, one on a white horse, another on a black one. You want to free yourself from reason, but it has a grip on you.

He appeared again, when my life has transformed into something round, like an orange. Then he comes and peels you off in an unhurried sway.  He sets off the unanswered ancient dispute: To do or not to do?

The hour we met we bordered our desires.

What is a desire if not a rush to be more than you already are, to exist in the intensity of your own private hour.

What is a seduction if not a well-proportioned, skillfully articulated distortion, a quarrel between the will to be who you think you are or the lust to forget who you are.


The lullaby that’s between you and I is splitting the gracious sky
I rhyme to please your time for it’s measured by a precise chime
shall I give in to this scend or rather withdraw from its daring hand?
Silly silly lie
Let us go then you and I



There are different conceptions of truth in every culture. And in every day.

Every day may bring a new logic that will seduce you and will suddenly inject a new sense you didn’t know you were waiting for.

I wonder what was my grandma seduced by when she walked out from her life leaving behind her children and a lipstick they were painting the mirror with and never came back, she walked out as if she was walking backwards from a painting until she disappeared in a crowd of people without history. Red is the color of lips that would be missed, on a bizarre canvas of a red regime, lips missed but cursed. Cursed but missed.

She was seduced by a direction of the train, an eternal flirt that would never end, a direction leading to a persistent loneliness.

I wonder whether you can actually escape from what you are, or from what you are to be.

And does her act of never-ending obedience to seduction live in me, and manifest through unexplainable desire to escape from a safety net, from what one has created as her life and no longer recognizes?

I was seduced by the path of his words pointing to an uncertain, liberating time that peels you off from all the reasons you’ve been collecting for a decade and now have found expired. You stumble upon your own image, you speculate whether you should switch horses and just gallop, like those before you, or get off the horses and walk straight like those ahead of you, those to come, maybe.

Sometimes desire is there to provoke, not to please. You are seduced to forget for a while and it’s called flirting. A coquetry with forgetting is departure.

And while you dream about all those things that may never happen, they come alive on their own and walk beside you like a ghost. We became phantoms of our days who secretly departed on the same horse.