THOUGHTS:

Sometimes it is so. The skin takes possession of objects. The light hurts the eyes and runs away from the Sun because it comes with memories and memorabilia that now want saved. Life overlies the dreams and your feet stick to the floor so that your body is inert. Cholera comes to intensity of longing. Since there are so many moments in which they are partners. 

 The light of day when the sun rises languishes. Evenings give rise to wakefulness and eyes even closed eyelids as they sail in search of some output and some lucidity. Not dreams, not nightmares but thoughts and memories. Surrendered to fatigue commit my spirit. I go to distant stops. I smell, see faces and tall buildings, historical monuments, hear laughter and admire looks ripped peace. The rain is drizzling but still oferto her face. I knew at that moment was to save my memory. And I was not wrong.


 The sun stood through the clouds. Woke me. I opened some windows and offered the melodies of Nina Simone to air the house. Today I have not done anything except hear. Catch a phrase here and there and compose a poem crooning. It is, without a doubt, my favorite singer. I imagine her on stage, singing, playing the piano, smoking, your charm. I close my eyes and quickly put myself in that environment. It was where I felt like being. Far away, in another life, in another country, another year, another story and another skin.

 Only a shell with hints of lucidity, when loneliness takes hold of his not breathe. In the midst of such madness and dementia are both rip some of perspicuity in the feet fly in search of the star that joins the line. These are the moments when the bodies come together in a hug or dance in which the gaze endlessly into the soul without feeling the least invasion. The other, the moments of madness and alienation are what allow the loneliness take hold of the body and sink into the deepest trench in which memories are neither comfort of mind. The body rooted moments of distress perpetuates the irons of a torn womb looking just a little heat. Lap. Or a breathing present.


 Always upward. It's the only way. It may even have endless curves but we can only go up. The climb can be filled with rocks and obstacles, but we can not face another alternative. It may even be our eyes and always a matter of perspective. It may even be an optical illusion but we have to face life as well. Even when expense. Even when no one sees the path, the more the slope of the land. The rise. Slowly and quietly. Without great aspirations to not have big disappointments. With small steps but firm and measured with dreams. One step at a time. A dream of time. A target at a time. In curves and obstacles forces are focusing and concentrating on ourselves and everything goes into place. Just be calm and tranquility. Haste is the enemy of perfection, and say it is perhaps because we hurry to reach the goals that we do not enjoy the way.


 Sit down here beside me and let me ask you if you saw the sun and it was wonderful when he lay on the horizon. Did you see? And if you saw the moon was so beautiful. Come, sit down here next to me and drink my coffee, even if you know it's dregs made a ritual of great affection and complicity. Talk to me. Tell me stories and endless things that fascinate me.Tell me what you think is done well or roast. Lend me your corner where I dive back in and smooth seas.