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All this hatred was to come from the past. Although the nights and days have elapsed since then by hundreds, and even the older women huddled in the cold during the night of thick blankets, even tears poured down memory lane. But worse cynicism and hatred that so guarded, so nobody knows where, that permeated the streets and people, and lend usual sullen contempt. Far is the dream, if not for that private ambition or affection, We often laden with grief and frustration, buried in silence and if anything, a couple embarrassed words, where the brightness of at least one pair of eyes accompanied them.
That should come from the times of war, lies and death, rupture and the deep hole where the magic was lost, giving way to greed, violence and anger spills of shame and lack of self-esteem .
It must have been the origin, it is better not to speak or know too much. Perhaps
-clean air from other lands took everything one day ... or bring us all with him, I wonder when trouble beer in the bar and watch the other customers in their absurd theater company. .. The grumpy old man who just spits out his words while talking to someone you know, a sort of continuous nod of assent, cough ... The pair of gorillas with striped shirts and jerseys that should be branded, secure, laughing and getting heard by the audience, watching his pathetic pride in the other over his shoulder without being able to drop a word miserable, and make your life something of value. The waiter, who in his infinite stupidity fears for his relationship with his stunning blonde girlfriend, and charges you face the beer just because perhaps you are someone she would be set, and his little midget pussy ego is forced to hate you for ello.Aunque is true, we're the seduciría.Es good to know, to live, to understand different societies, even when he is so distant, so alien to all of this out of pure contempt. Contempt born of boredom. The first step to be a bitter, misunderstood, when you're just ... when you only love yourself, and see impasibidad shortcomings and mistakes of others, the feelings, with more disappointment and fatigue that any empathy , for appellants and vacuous in the life of the neighborhood, when you have your tent and nothing ever happens in your own damn life. You tired, you've done enough, all your time working, while not ungrateful youth now want to live as before. They know nothing of what life is, and at last, also envy them a bit not having lived its time now, with more possibilities and yet so lost as always without a little discipline, and in that time.
long does it take to harden the human heart. It's something that comes with experience, or maybe it's something that happens depends on the environment. How long does it take to understand the youth and his presumptuousness, his desire to be without subterfuge as planned, so secret and stupid. Understanding of the freedom of the young man who wants another world, another life beyond the short-sightedness of the oppressed or those who believe they have the definitive answer even beyond themselves ... Intransigence, strings that last beyond the death of self. What We are unhappy to be alive, I think, just as my gray eyes alight on the head of my son. Quisera that had a better father than I, someone who could better target care and all that energy that I can not channel. That head awkwardly back to me, with its churning back and forth, playing by the bar. His mother must miss him these days. Maybe someday she redo your life and find a better man than me, maybe one of those that are so easy to laugh if ashamed of themselves without power and help, or want to avoid, the public despicable in which they live their lives. The man seems to get used to the tyranny like to live surrounded by bullshit and falsehood, if they can at least eat the leftovers, that after all, are large fortune. Slaves, truly understand your condition, when selling his thought and soul, the prevailing ideas. Today, they are given away by kings parents to their children, as long as look good and be like everyone else, which ultimately is all about integration, especially their children who are normal.
poses again the look on my son, when I understand what I say, something to help you forever.
curious The child scampered among runaway and conscious, satisfied, to feel observed by the beloved father. The energy that surrounded the room, the sound of music and the audience, the whole life swirling in front him and locked in the cosmos in a single place, thankfully, they could become familiar if his father was smiling, because the world out there was an endless sea of \u200b\u200bblackness, I drove until finally the bed have the most glorious dreams, until the next day.
- Son, come here, I have to ask you something.
- No, let me!
The father smiled.

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Petition After all

Now, I want this life to Be a fairytale.
Just like a tale ...
a fairytale.

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Crisis, stress and misery ... Dionysian Apollonian

is better or opinion. Things are working so that if necessary pisarte neck, I tread.

Yet now people seem to have things more clearly.

Obviously, the conditions of life is hard when resources are scarce. Stress, suffering, they become enemies around anyone and everyone in particular through the streets. The truths that are coming to light and can be part of another conspiracy. The apparent problems of the system and corruption of governments, caught in the paradox of power and slavery for others. Go down in history, death touches us all, live life as best as possible.

Worry only about your family ...

Man is wolf to man . Friendships

prove to be false, perhaps is better after all. Smiles, gestures of affection and good words, all the while things are going well, if not ... Then come the problems. Affective interest, the market for emotions, moods. Philosophy has a lot of the current situation in Spain and elsewhere. Society is crumbling and dying image divided into opposing groups. Economic and political manipulation ranging from toothpaste to use your speech, from the clothes they spend. Progressive scale violence, sending birds governments and armies death without the consent of the majority.

I'm still in my seat like so many others watching the scene, hoping that things will get better and not myself to think that nothing can change. I have cheated hundreds of times, friends and enemies, and yet I'm still the same they had to learn their lessons from very small. I hope not to end up with the feeling of being stupid, but the worst thing would end up believing what someone came to tell me.

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Women are well ....

(Edward Weston Photography)

Sometimes I wonder how they see the world from a male head.

minutes If I grant the possibility of man would I see many different things?, Would great revelations?

I do not know, I think, yes, and do not know why, to rest a little. I have the idea, perhaps crazy, that my head is constantly full of things, voices, thoughts, things do is because I have a woman's head. A day like today, a day if I feel lonely just because I'm never lonely when I see no one or, at least, never in silence. I feel that I speak and answer me, answer me these voices that I inhabit.

However, this is not the most exhausting, finally, over the years I've gotten used to standing conference that is lived daily in my head. What is more stressful than being a woman does not seem to be something that comes naturally, a condition with which one is born but a long and expensive job that may not be waived and there is always something new to learn.

At present I am surprised the media blitz on the feminine. There are women everywhere, every time we used to sell all types of products ranging from everything to do with the "feminine hygiene", including all cleaning products for the home kitchen and ending with notebooks, cars, the usual liquor and an endless number of things.

What makes us so versatile is a strange mix. While many advertisements exploit our maternal side, sweet and devoted to household work (killed by the family: "Hey you, think of your mom and give her a blender, washing machine etc..), Others are dedicated to revealing one's body and make it a place of desire, indeed, women in these ads seem to only want to arouse passions, libido. On a typical day I see many times boobs (and not mine), are everywhere, many have no face or put a name matters little. I will not say that all seem to like the same, at least in advertising, because they favor the big, round, those who barely move. Apart from this bombardment is sufficient to turn on a radio to hear that women seem to want gasoline, fire, fire, we stick together, they give us, we whipped and, finally, all those alternatives that come to the same. Not counting the many singers who wail in the songs and whose videos, even romantic, should include the collection to the buttocks, abdomen toned, the plunging neckline and a sensual movement, wet bodies, exposed, why not? something original, provocative introducing a finger painted red mouth does anyone has?.

to all this is added, this weekend, "or has been all month? The beauty queens, the detailed discussions on all body parts, the headlines about cellulite, stretch marks, accompanied by discussions of the presenters, who were also queens, on the subject.

And it seemed that that was the other area of \u200b\u200bfemininity, gossip, whispering, critique. We have to be watching and comparing all the time, we keep quotas to meet: Be a good daughter, good girlfriend, good wife, good lover, good mother, good housekeeper, a good professional ... who can look bad in the long list without trial or at least feel that way?

We wish to make us think that is a must, a requirement, but be careful because if you want too may bad things happen to you, sorry, but this will be your fault.

We shocked the women covered the Middle East but we remain indifferent to nudity by nudity, the avalanche-to-eat products that include women, the idea outrageous, in my view, that to be visible, regardless of cause, it is necessary to strip out. I say this in mind last year still fresh Maria Fernanda Valencia for the camera in the undressing offered if elected. It is not easy to be known, she claimed, and this may be a way to do it. I would say it actually would be released, of course, a very intimate and private but what has that to do with a political project? Many years of struggle for rights claims seem to come we can now openly show their tits and so we can get many things. The idea of \u200b\u200bthe Colombian actresses naked from the waist up from being passed Mickey Fanny Law, despite being a noble cause, it seemed equally out of place. Why not also stripped actors?

Finally, it is difficult to understand what is expected after all of us. It is difficult, also, to calculate how much damage has made that current female ideal, fucking strange mix of sweet and capable.

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jos [empathy]

no lights, roads, people, my arm hurts, at least lose the pain inside.

is it so complicated? difficult?

understand?

believe?

support?

want?

as you say if talks would have made a couple of days ago

would spontaneously embrace

and other words would

and take me away with no rancor but with a "wait for me, I will return"

do not notice?

the drug does not work in this second time

foreign words help calm

penalties that fail to heal the wounds

"you give yourself time," I said a distant hug

how? I would like to know how longer?

for?

yes, maybe I was blind ... maybe things are there ... but I do not see

did not want to leave your life and all you've done is more away

itself is

grudge the grudge is not good .. I know ... but I accept it as a punishment for feeling ( you )

accept it as punishment for wanting ( you )

resentment becomes putrefaction and off my lights

and smiles.

accept it ...

is as it should be?

a procedure to be followed for querdar all with a clear conscience?

say love me, worship me and you can not to mourn me

to hug to my cry

stop you can not give (me) minutes worth gold, heaven and the forces

are not able to soften and talk with words compatible with my essence

my state on the defensive is normal, I have no other defense mechanism against things that come to me directly, you knew that all I get the triple? knew that about me? know my essence??

I think I love too much not to open my heart to read what's inside, because after all let me go and do not strive bring me back or never departs.

are desperate attempts, the cries inaudible. I hope blows, by reacting poque not know how to look. I hope to be wrong and who I love and miss containing me to be who I did not bleed.

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and when I finally found one of those few little people that if they are really good,
everything turns gray, once the heart can not control ...

tears and do not stop run

to be noticed and remember that everything is the same
whoever and when that is ...

all the same ...

confusion and clutter, hurts and what does it matter?
MATTER THAT SHIT JUST WANT TO TAKE YOUR HAND INSTEAD OF JUST WALKING BY YOUR SIDE?
MATTER IF THAT SHIT TO SLEEP WITH THE ONLY PERSON THAT DREAM IS SHE?
MATTER IF THAT SHIT IN A HUG TIEMBLO, ONCE I asked her?

tell me who ... who care if I die to give you a kiss ?

always go back to the same conclusions and headaches
this is bad ... what they call ..... mm ... as it is?
"love" ja ... until I laugh ... yeah ... that!
is bad ... it's worthless because it only invites are tears

departures
pains penalties

anguish
more tears

cuts blood
anger loneliness

invisibility
reprimr-thoughts-feelings-looks-beats

and here I remain, no strength, no desire, no smiles

añorandote
secret

alone in the dark

dreaming increasingly by the crap you !
only willing to hold the fuck up and you feel ke same thing happens here! ...
breath away I
my mouth dry and moistened by drops that touch my lips ...
is so difficult ... for me ... talk and say what's inside
ke
tell how beautiful it is for me to see
suddenly you appear

later

and smile

tell
tornadoes within
if I smile
if you look
if I take the hand
if
hold me if I greet
if I hear your voice

AAAHHHH! if I hear your voice ... do not know ... I really do not know that this
detail
did so much ...

wake

had no simple way to achieve such happiness
exquisite moments
and then what?
where he was?

were fantasies ... beautiful fantasies

castles and clouds
ideas and plans
yet never was it?
was all a figment of my imagination?

be scars, because the first person who is truly
that crosses my path, I will not let me take time
will not let you delete ke

or heal

you the first real sleep appears
you the first look that I really
and real smile that made me smile

hurts and I'm sorry
if you want to take my hand
do a side step
so you do not touch my desires.

I leave your bottle of wine , above your bed.

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Dionysian Apollonian ...

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and so ... no more ... my body gives an unexpected turn ...
not leave now ... I do not want ... BUT there are always buts ...

perhaps the most important words, does not want ...
and worse, is that of my mouth no words come out ... or gestures ...

how to do? how to make you realize?

I should be obvious? ... I do not know ... sometimes I do not think intereza me ... but ... in the background .. and I know you know too ... I can not help .. or rule ...
you win ... (This sentence .. I have said many times for me ... and again I repeat).

Ven.

Take a walk ...

take my hand ...

come close to me ...

no further ..

destroys invisible worlds around me, I tear the skins over, biting the bony structures of the negative thoughts and airtime charges once bankrupt waiting to feel the warmth of a sunrise.

see a movie?
but on condition that hugs me too hard ...

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She took all the memories and put them in a safe place.
Everything. Even
me.

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DAYS OVER ONE AND DONE

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litter is so flat even without having it is not even fall into this September, and perhaps the sea is calling me on the edge between this and Africa.
are lies that I'm standing at every step of every country and every people, every intersection on the road.
no longer fear or shyness, and only race against death, run to embrace it, even if you are unprepared.
No thanks I do not look for a reputation, the contempt.

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In what is a newspaper-Inception

Leo today in the online edition of The Spectator the following sentences, for to an article about the actress Kathy Saenz:

"It's noon. It's August. His son Amador enters the garden today. Her husband, actor Sebastian Martínez wants to take, by any means. Hours before have a bomb in Bogotá. Kathy is radiant. Come strawberries. "

The bold, the particular score, everything belongs to the original text. Normally, I resign myself silent and not protest but this time I could not stay silent. Okay, who wrote the article wants to sound modern, why not a little intellectual game with short sentences and disconnected. All right. It also lets talk in the article, the therapist helps Kathy to "resolve their farts" vocabulary not bother an opinion column of a young carefree or verbatim transcript of an answer given orally but frankly grind, even if what she said (I reserve my comments to this chocolocura), to put it in a paragraph narrative intended to be published in a newspaper. But hey, that happened to me but someone explain to me the sequence of ideas and, above all, why the bomb refencia to Bogotá. I know that the dramatic incident took place that day but what to do with what is being told. Do so Sebastián Martinez wants to take his son to the garden?, "Fears for him? However, how can that be true so Kathy is radiant and eat strawberries? Put these sentences one after another just lends itself to misunderstandings, especially the image say it so loud and lazy eating her strawberries after the pump, as usual.
I know it was the intention of the article and it would seem fair to judge Kathy Saenz for him, no more missing, but can not help thinking that this article reads superficial and banal that one for anything, burn a few minutes, serves example to illustrate the vast gulf that exists in the country between what happens and the reaction of many residents in this regard.

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The origin

I just uploaded a review of Nolan's latest film, Inception, translated as The origin, Ochoymedio . I decided not to take any points in the standings by doing the opposite that many of the critics I've read. Attempt to justify my reasons in the review but I'm quite fast. In short I would not do so because they wanted to "punish" a film that manages to live in the minds of many viewers who watch it. I like the idea that the film works as history posed a bit like the inside of that is planted is a kind of doubts and concerns that this would be classified silly or trivial to understand but do not share.

I like stories that are inhabited by several days and I have further questions or are hanging around that I usually do complement them and feeding them. It is not easy to find stories that produce it and many will evaporate after a few days and turn to make efforts to rescue them from memory. I

happens with stories written and directed by Nolan, perhaps many of the themes that haunt me are close and I attract these troubled men desperately seeking redemption. Lonely men who have lost everything they loved and move motivated by a single obsession that guide and varies depending on the character.

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Cerati

L Levo weeks thinking in the post you wanted to spend a Cerati. After years of listening to live music, watching presentations at Bogota, they used to be numerous, it is hard to imagine lying in bed, unconscious.

networks are flooded with messages of support produced by known artists (such as Shakira did today), not only these written messages a day for him, their fans scattered around the planet do with emphasis. Surely many of them as they occur to me that I have trouble listening to his music since he is in coma because suddenly, all the lyrics that are full of memories and feelings are all the same tinge of sadness and melancholy.

Perhaps the worst thing is knowing it stopped, motionless, he was pure movement. Insurance would not have chosen this fate for himself. Now dependent on others to stay alive, paradoxical fate of someone who chose to live on the border in search away from the routine and dependence.

I went to many shows, like the time I saw him almost from behind flapping their arms like wings while singing City anger so many years ago appears to be another life.

time ago I had the chance to cross words with him during one of his visits to Bogotá, I did not sit well for those few seconds and did not like that real image take the place of the other I had created over the years, a composite image of music and lyrics that do not need anything more to exist in my life and with me. The contact you make with a work can grow, which would exceed the author thereof (Ribeyro already said in one of his best stories).

Sea as I think as much of it. Do not write message in the networks created for this purpose but from time to enter his official website, read the medical report, the latest, and I can not help feeling that history is written and there will be no happy ending to this case. Listen to their music with that strange feeling of nostalgia in advance for all the songs that I feel will not be able to leave their lips. Sorry to be fatal and I feel bad about that but the outlook is grim.

Cerati On August 11 a birthday, wish him trapped in a beautiful, peaceful sleep, where you hear the music you like and the burdens of this world no longer exist.

ever walked through the seventh with a gift to him under the left arm at the front desk of a hotel and who knows if they ever received. For all I thought during that tour, so much he beat the heart to that which I delivered the package while and unusual emotion I felt during a concert of Soda in the covered arena, just for that Cerati, (a who prefer to remember and ) deserves my best wishes and my infinite gratitude.

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was so simple ...
so minor details, but did not realize ...
not notice the storm that produced
was an ebb and flow of feelings
IS a lightning storm with the most delicious flavors ...
envelops me and I dropped between feathers with soft textures ...
is the same confusion,
but in a pleasant-tasting flavor
I like, I love ,
that upsets me ...
takes me and catch me ...
enjoying the intense heat and unprecedented ...

let me make you understand? thinking? feel? enjoy? taste? and maybe cry?
is so easy and so complex ...
sleep and die ...
go mad but I like ...
hurts and I enjoy it ...

a touch ... and maybe twenty thousand kisses ...

your neck uuff ... ...

is 7 am.
sleep?

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A month ago I read about a student Bogota 11 years who drowned during a school trip. Apparently Robinson Mendoza was launched by a pool rodadero Silvania. The parents demanded an investigation into the case hard to clearly determine what happened and why (a painful why) the teachers neglected the child but this could not swim.

not know what else has happened to the case, I find no information on the Internet and continues to be disturbing to find information about this child I have found many similar cases in different parts.

The live drama his family must be terrible, I do not doubt for a moment, losing a son in such tragic circumstances must remove all kinds of feelings. However, if I write now about the case is because I thought a lot about the teachers and try to imagine its history. I understand that the child's parents judge them harshly but I doubt that they too must be having really bad. As you read the news know that many people do not hesitate to believe them guilty in insurance imagine that they were doing "who knows what" while the children were neglected even though they knew that several of them, like Robinson, could not swim. However, I can not help tell another story, perhaps untrue, in Sylvania ride that did take place after much effort and several meetings with the hope of taking the kids to another climate to live in a place away from the big city for a few hours and suddenly, without knowing much about how, or what time is confronted with the fact that Robinson had been drowned. I imagine the terror, pain and guilt of seeing a child, a student who was drowned in own responsibility before us. Never mind how they had to control the other children while still awaited, it was not true, that could save and at the end, took air for the fateful call and warn of the crash. I can not imagine what were the nights since then, the way certain times be revived again and again believing that a different decision could eventually change everything.

I think that some tragedies have the power to drag many as avalanche hits. I think the pain and guilt have many opportunities and occasions to appear and settle in fertile, I think a story like this there are many who are influenced by their tragic fate and suffering whose stories we can not even imagine.

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caresses without rubbing the side of the stove ...

... Suddenly, you stop ... look and twelfth time ... you realize what it ... blind you may be thinking that your own ideas ... might not all be the same forever ... but no ... the truth is that ... .. and so

sad thing is not the soft drops, not beautiful gray sky, nor the exquisite ice that blows between the clothes ..

how depressing and sad ... is to see how the actors ... all are not able to distinguish the difference between what beautiful and common ... details ... textures ... heat that nobody notices ...

the green of the trees after rain ... the aroma of freshly ground when the first raindrops fell ... the spaces between the clouds when brewing a ray of sunshine ...

tears are inevitable ... but I hide them ... those who can not ... those who do not know ...
and the same goes for the other pages, for pages and never forgotten falling ... the end of the day is the very essence, the same colors.

When I do a count ... I stay at 0 ... no ... the truth is a 1 ... and "maybe" that unfortunately need time, but is on track. .. But after all ... view is that ... and is full ... but observing ... there? left? to persist? that remains? born? ... nothing?
would be fascinating to hit a mistake ... but come on! ... I do not ...
the "maybe" to give it to me ... and I hope ...

but ... it is clear that the illusions here are no longer ... these are stories ... are the movies I see creating, while, magnificent scenes that portray every day to wake up, to invent a new engine ...

Sometimes it is so simple ... yet so complex at a time ... is so simple, but simple is sometimes misunderstood, because most of the characters does not include certain strokes of color universal or the annotations made by the most beautiful ...

is so simple ... want a tea ? ...
of any? I have several flavors ...

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"I Could Be Your Everything ... if you let me .. if you let me be ..." Chronic

Sometimes I turn around ... and again ... not think or listen but think you can imagine and maybe tasting ... excites you the idea of \u200b\u200bsome creaking and something as simple as a word ... decibels ... flying through sacred sites and spaces ... delicious ... and movements are reflected in the volumes ... movements are reflected in the marks on the skin ... reflected ... in that hug after fatigue ... strange desires 8mm Songs thoughts out of place ... in everything and anything outside .. sephia pictures ... and a kiss to wake ... breakfast?

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Tragedy in black and white You and I

Gary Coleman died at age 42. It's hard not to read the news and think about the child star of black and white, it's hard not to because, at least in my case, is the only memory I have of this actor. There were many episodes that I saw near-perfect family that not only was the only example of interracial family in her TV-but also it was very fun and loving in that apartment from rich to where they came to live two orphaned brothers and finding, which seemed a better fate. Were not always easy things to Arnold and Willis and through humorous situations arose how to fit into a new family that had many differences. Arnold's character I remember talking to his goldfish (is not named Lincoln? Am I wrong?) wandering alone in her room was on him, no doubt, fell the weight and consistency of the series, funny, creative, questioning, I thought, really, I was a kid and when I knew I was an adult not disbelief. It was one of those gadgets that one fellow said to me one day, at that time without internet, no google, in which one could say "can not be sure?, Where he saw that?". When I saw this story confirmed macabre, Gary Coleman was an adult trapped in a child's body ... the only good thing is that this be allowed to give that child life avivato and lucid. These days I thought of adults who have lost children playing to survive: as Marie Antoinette Snow who plays Xavier Lopez Chilindrina or has for years been Chabelo in Mexico. I can not help it seize me a strange feeling when I see the latter in some way, is that it is still rare to see these kids big and old, the infants of crow's feet and hands stained with his socks collected and their children's clothing. There is something slightly unnatural about it all, a desire to freeze time but this does not permit, refuses and leaves us dismayed old children.

This is not the case of Gary Coleman, to him, allowed him to interpret a child to be an actor, how to be lover when measured 1.42? Those were days of glory from Coleman but, like so many others, that opportunity was turned into a nightmare.

These days what impressed me most was an interview given to an actor of a Colombian saying that he regrets his involvement in the series, which would not have done it before. Ironically it did occupying a space in the memorioa of people so far to him as I can be me is what he would like to erase. So it's hard not to be moved a little to the tragedy of this strange life, from childhood into adulthood that brings recognition, money, and behind them the ruin and defeat. Today, as I write this his body still can not be buried because they face different parties who have interest on it. Since there is no money to fight, but it seems, like vultures fighting over a piece of meat remains a good reason.

not think it's a hero, or just a victim of insurance with a firm hand contributed to the collapse of many moments of his life, but if I think it is embodied in various paradoxes of modern society.

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WATER GHOST

Water ghost

There was a fight of no enemies
Who´s guilty never known.

Life as it´s unseen.
Thirsty hunters watching, expecting to gain the shipwreck´s treasure
standing quite in sea grounds.
Ghost of blur our mind.
We were watching each other
La destructività
coming migraine
we took the negative cut and saw its razor effects.

There are Many Reasons not,
But The way we look Each Other
the feeling we hold together
bring us up over the void. My brother

meat in the voice of James
I Looked
surprise There Was More Than a language barrier
- this is epic my dear

ghosts and thirsty hunters Water We Are

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Once again the pack on his shoulder.
Once again the taste of fear
eyes farewell
foot on the road, the horizon of mist and life ending,
life begins.

unfinished pages
wrong words
words in vain
the time it was called the gate
in other lands in
Elsewhere there are more answers
for which has been called to travel.

Again nostalgia
the widening gap between yesterday daily
and today is fired
the waves of movement
into the unknown.

Once again the sound of the train
the aircraft take off
hostesses and stewards
business people and their
fatigue and smoke.
the night.
Again, the absence
remoteness from the everyday ,
routine
like ghosts in mirrors of cars.
Play surprised
the name of self
on the lips of another person.
be real and tangible
only in certain situations.

Again the stranger
abroad again
once again a new beginning
closer to the end
for anyone who has been called
to be the pilgrim , the unknown



"The Basking accept, does not require" - Motto of the Camino de Santiago popular

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is rare when one speaks of oneself (and repeated in this one.) Someone asks a question everyone, what do you like eating?, What movie you Like, how you were at 15?, and that we are building a picture with words trying to explain what we have not explained ourselves, building our image carefully: I like .. I always ... I never .... Yo. From time to hear me some things that I almost think, sometimes I do not know if the things I say I say them to convince themselves, to tell the story that I like. Our old friends know many of our stories, remember some more clearly than us, others have been modified at will by appropriating them (sometimes including). Nothing better than that moment when you hear a story that thinks he remembers well and the other account so different, so disatinto, change colors perspectives, circumstances, and to view one's self. You were so ... Never liked ati ... you thought ... You. That
me and that you are sometimes very far ....

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goodbye without words or returns ... jaja .. ke no laughter?



I have no idea, I do not know write ke ...
when I realize ke ke said ... everything was a lie ... ..
false ...
words were just a girl infatuated ke said ...
a little girl i want something and bam! .. Get it ... saying magic words and looks wonderful ..
ha! ... It was all a lie ... or kisas ... ke more word I heard in my head ... Inconsistent

penalty .... ke
really ....
sounds harsh ... cold .. rough .. .. kizás insensitive
but ..
I feel sorry ...
and decorate your life with promises and words ke nisikiera you know ...
Kerer not know ... and worse ... .. I do not know love does not know how to care .. or at least protect ... Ke
bags?? ke bags? to write ... to demonstrate ... suffering ... .. absences
talk back ... .. see ... touch ... say ... ask ... Ke
bags? ... If when I turn back to continue walking ... all wonderful things this group of ke was you, the shots and made away, doing things and writing, and promising change like ke all LA Anarchist others ...
are part of the same shit ... ke joy ...
realize joy ke ke ke I was the fool I'll buy your nice words .. caresses your gestures ... those ... those eyes ... that how to make love ... I thought ke ke thinking everything was real ..
ke and I think in a few minutes willing to change my colors and light settings ... just to try something Kise always ke ... but now I realize you were the person ke ekivokada but for me, ke could appear in my life ...
you .... a mistake ... but thanks ... porke learned not to believe in people like you ...
empty ... well ... one more ... the heap ... are part of the shit no kiero ke be around ... you are part of no kiero ke remember ... you're part of what i want to leave behind and never seeing or running into ... nisikiera greet ...
will invisible eyes .. as I did for a year ...
ke this time is final ... no telepathy or anything all ke ke I thought was real ...
... loneliness ... you like?
no .. no .. do not know me feel me disappear .... kiero pk same for you ...
Uniko and what i want from you ...
ashamed ... I have ... been .. so .... stupid ...
give me ....
naive ...
and believe these words ...
thanks for making me learn .. kiero not anybody like you in my life ... or know anything about you ... hopefully not you dare to approach in any way for absolutely ... NOTHING.

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Prostitution in Latin American literature, a bird's reflection

In Mexico during the seventeenth century, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz wrote in his poem "Men fools" on which he has been called "the oldest profession in the world," stressed one of the most famous verses this poem: "Or what is more to blame, but do ill: she who sins for pay or who pays for sin?" Sor Juana intended, as indicated from the title, call attention to the double standard that is often applied to the issue of prostitution in which they often punish, stigmatize or reject its practitioners, but little or nothing about those who benefit from this service.
We cite this poem as a prime example of how many writers have used their feathers to talk about prostitution, the exchange of money for sexual favors, being, space and literature in which this research has been done since different and varied perspectives.

Roberto Arlt, Argentine writer, published in 1929, the particular novel Los siete locos, prostitutes are there present in the text, are companions, unconditional love, and above all essential parts in the social revolution that plans to make The Astrologer one of the most impressive of the book, aided by a network of brothels throughout the country. The idea is to undermine, once and for all and since its foundation, an exclusionary society, with no sense that man has managed to alienate himself.
What comes to mind when we think of prostitutes? Perhaps darkness, poverty, squalor? Mario Vargas Llosa will provide a new perspective on that stereotype tissue around prostitution. In his first major novel The City and the Dogs (1962) Leoncio Prado cadets seem to only find peace in the visit to the neighborhood of brothels and in particular the famous "Golden Feet" with gentleness and wisdom who starts these young people who are just learning to be men in the arts of love. Later in his autobiography The fish in the water (1991), Vargas Llosa prostitute say that this really existed and that his legend persisted for several generations of cadets that always remembered with respect, admiration and nostalgia. In another of the novels of the Peruvian writer Pantoja and the Special (1973) the protagonist is Pantaleon Pantoja, a soldier sent deep into the jungle to organize the sexual satisfaction of the military. Serious and organized Pantaleon will arrange "hits" set shifts, in short, will use military discipline to the whole world will be benefited. The book is written with humor and it's hard not to laugh with the occurrences of Pantoja.
Alvaro Mutis, renowned Colombian writer, addressed a similar idea in Ilona arrives with the rain (1988) when the tireless Maqroll decide in a particular moment in the saga of this character consists of seven novels, which will stay a while in one place and manage a brothel in Panama with his girlfriend Ilona. The particularity of this brothel lies in the fact that prostitutes will be passed through airline attendants recognized. The brothel becomes a place to get Maqroll stop, a taste of everyday life with Ilona and the possibility of a love strong and intense but devoid of commitment and belongings that are woven between the two and offers customers of your business The dream of giving pleasure, to reach heaven, if you like with these women who supposedly crossed to live. Thanks to the characters who visit the brothel see how this becomes a relief space, meeting and excited because for many men, as noted by Vargas Llosa, the brothel may be the place where he finally drops the mask and the man is naked in body and soul to this woman that is not there to demand nothing, expecting nothing and only aims to please. Gabriel García Márquez
addressed in several of his novels the theme of prostitution in The incredible and sad story of candida Erendira and Her Heartless Grandmother (1972) is the punishment, is the fate that takes over. Erendira has spent years enslaved by her grandmother who is accused of having burned his house and forced to go from town to town prostitute to pay the debt. The reader quickly understands that this debt is infinite and that will not suffice to Candida a lifetime to pay it off while the men are crowded at your door. This text is enforced prostitution and impedes the realization of a personal destiny, candida can only rescue the love and García Márquez show like this woman, fragile, thin like a helpless bird love waking get some of the men who visit as the episode narrated in Hundred Years of Solitude ( 1967) when Aureliano Buendía intersects with Candida (no wonder some of Garcia Marquez's books have ties to each other) and is ready to release her from her fateful punishment but take it away before he consiga.En novel Love in the Time of Cholera (1985) the protagonist found in brothels, together with the partners and their sounds, the peace necessary for work done that we know the author takes his real life, actually, García Márquez told several times that in those places and getting cheap rooms the ability to not feel so alone while his typewriter typed accompanied by all sorts of noises.
In recent publications Colombian Santiago Gamboa Mario Mendoza and referring to prostitution. In the first, this usually is linked to the society that we see with the dark areas of a city that while they are there devouring wish to ignore all around, areas where the unwary or those who venture are lost for ever. For Gamboa, method of Losing ( 1997) Quica, the prostitute becomes the ally and the unconditional support of Victor Silampos character facing a case of corruption, murder and desapariciones.Pecadoras, Allied, unconditional love, convicted, adventurous, happy or bitter, prostitutes appear in different and varied ways in Latin American literature. Many writers were seduced by stories that are woven into the brothels and around and never tire of exploring the many facets inherent in this business as evidenced by the examples in this reflection.
I would venture, at this point to say that perhaps, this fascination is due to the fact that prostitution is a man unlikely possibility, one that involves feeling that a woman is willing to do anything for him to meet him and bow, and that for a moment, one short and often expensive, it will rise as king of the universe of the space she shares with her, her wishes are orders, obedience is ensured, and then only then will return to his world of anonymity and insignificance where things, for sure, do not always happen that way.

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Shine on you crazy diamond

Perhaps the comment I hear most commented that when working with adolescents is the classic young people today are terrible, not like before ....
On days like today I have mixed feelings towards this assessment to be made so lightly. The first thing that an adult should understand is that the youth of today are a product of today's adults. The thing is usually seen separately and does not really work well, young people are closely linked to the adults need their money, their permissions and approval or disapproval and carry chains and fears of their elders.
Faced with the excesses, sedentary lifestyle, abuse of certain electrical appliances should always look up at the adult who has allowed this situation provided or arranged.
The second is that just a little closer to discover that the youth is always the same. There is the curious eyes, eyes wide and expectant. I saw them today and I was impressed with how talented they may be, with the strength to fight for certain things, the camaraderie between them. Whenever this happens I feel there is hope, that all is not lost that juventusd is always the eternal promise that there will be changes, that love giant will shake the world and have shaken the foundations. That maybe, just maybe some resume the roads that have begun to draw and then lost light and then reign over darkness. Working with adolescents is a prime setting for the eyes that look at you, the least of these, not all, yet they are free of much pain and disappointment, are there full force with the idea of \u200b\u200bwhat they believe to be just outlined as the slaves of Michelangelo which are in Italy and they say are unfinished because fiigura barely see the stone under the slab (not like the Louvre to look so perfect), these slaves are like my teenagers ... . What will become of them? Do you find losers, cowards, unable to realize their dreams? Will they end bowed, with short hair, having forgotten what made them vibrate and sigh? Will they lose the shine? I would not wish that any of them, hopefully not aware of the dark intricacies of the soul to which some are beginning to show itself, hopefully could be seen through the eyes of time and see how much you shine today, I wish I could see ...

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is so early to let go ...
hurts so much when we assume the truth ...
is painful smile again
and try to heal the wounds were not there .. ke
hurts me to feel and know you're not for me ...
but nevertheless, you move and make me know you're never here for me ...
tears last fall ...
assume that just because you leave and there is no more
nothing to think, nothing in that project ...
vanishes and it hurts you more, to do only as you move away
and that's what I really want
smiling, walking, feel the wind and surf
dismissal will ... no hugs, no kisses or glances
essential because it may never should have been ...

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The NO (Cartagena 2010)

Cartagena ...
Cartagena is many things, like anywhere, and over this city that has seen many changes and, especially, has become a meeting place of cultures, differences and stage numerous cultural events throughout the year.
For me, some time ago that is Hay Festival Cartagena, ie the possibility of walking the streets waiting for a talk interesting, take a blank sheet to write down any references that I like, that serves me, that resonate within me.
The times I've been I've heard stories that I liked, found writers who have seduced me with her voice and then with his writings, I also run the other way, where there was disappointment in expectations, but I have never regretted coming .
Sometimes I come and I miss one or several conferences, and I stand with the ballots in their pockets, because life to me, vibrates at times stronger than anything else and I mess up in conversation, in a street, and I do not care because everything can be stories when the world is seen as a great book. There
Many critics see it as a great event snobbish, can be, how many things could not get that description? For my part, I think they make great efforts to link a larger number of people each year, and that open, increasingly, outside events parallel to the walls in which several writers have access to places usually far from what that occurs from the walls inward. Probably not enough. It is also true that much of vanity, of being seen and be seen, but is that people so it is everywhere: in the conference em Bogotá, in the cocktail of "friends" or in line at Granahorrar.
I like it a great party, it does move me to a theater is filled to listen to someone whose job is to be alone in front of a sheet of paper. Not surprising that many books are sold during those days, he wears a fashionable both read and that some people consider important to talk about novels and books for several hours.
Reading and writing are solitary pleasures immensely and suddenly, as if by a miracle, accompanied by the magic of a city restored to produce magic one feels, or wants to believe, we really are many, which can talk about books while lunch, take a Mojito or dance to a song, you feel that literature is like a great heart beating, breathing, strange to many ventricles and veins, not always beautiful, so lonely in the middle of the dark chest, but above all, never static, never still, always circulating life.

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steps ...


cigarettes again ... thoughts ... and decisions ...
but this time ... final ...
ke I do not know ... is ... quiet? ..
like .. smile .. I like

sounding songs on ... ke smile songs to the rhythm of my footsteps
and writings ...
a decision that I plan to carry out ...
visualize goals ... I have to meet targets
ke ...
trips that take place ...

and open the skies in my waiting
roads are built in my step ...
new life and new faces

those vibes ... I missed ... I never had ..
but always dreamed of ...

and everything becomes ... .. and vivid pastel colors ...
fluor colors ..
colors ... you never saw ...
I love it!

Playing if I walked away "...
visions ... paths ... colors ... strokes ... ... prayers and phrases Ke ....
words took the wind ...
immaturity that I never understood ...
insecurity I leave behind ...
doubt that I will not feel ...
commitments come at the right times ... ...
all conspire ...
all is one ...
'll understand?
maybe not ... but I do ...

I decided ...
today ... I turn the page ...
keep walking ... Kedan
and bitter flavors that I intend to become clear into books ...
"a thumping you learn? Ke ja !....
odd ..
but ... is part of ...

here goes ... if someone reaches ...
invite you to a tea ...