Me acordé

Estaba viendo unas fotos en Flickr y me encontré una parecida a esta que yo tomé hace como 3 años, no es buena pero me gusta. Es una pared en un callejón en Roma, sólo un grafitti. Talvez les puedo dar el mismo sentido de Cortázar, Iremos a donde los espejos no exiten.

Ayer

Estaba sentada hablando con algunas personas uqe conozco desde hace años, literalmente años¡¡, y me di cuenta de algo un poquito importante; me encanta mi carrera y lo que estoy haciendo con mi vida. Tal vez no sea la gran cosa y no este super estimado pero me gusta y creo que no me equivoque.
Digo, para qué quiero saber sacar dientes si no puedo sustentar mi punto de vista, o qué me importa si no puedo hacer mil vestidos bonitos o operar un cerebro. Y a sé que hay cosas más importantes y necesarias que otras pero lo que yo (nosotros) hacemos es también importante de alguna manera. Talvez no pueda hacer muchas cosas ni saber miles otras como el nombre de cada uno de los huesos del cuerpo o cuales son las razones para una baja de empleados en una fábrica que me crearán problemas económicos, estoy aprendiendo a usar mi cerebro y eso importa, por la simple razón que es la parte que mejor me representará en algún momento y es la parte de mi que me ayudará a llegar a donde quiero. Jeje, es tan divertido ver en lo que nos convertimos...

Found it somewhere

After a while, you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning and company doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats, with your head up and your eyes open, with the grace of an adult, not the grief of a child
And you learn to build all your roads on today because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans.
After a while, you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.

Cute Flowers with out Smell

Papoula Amapola Poppy
Originally uploaded by Bryonia.

Storm..

I once told a friend that I felt like bursting out with so much energy, that I felt so hypered-up that I was numb. I dont mind staying, but I hate being left behind, it seems like for the past year and a half there is always someone willing to go leave me behind. Its paranoiac as nothing else could but I dont care, I understand its just I dont really want to be there this time. There really is no conlusion, no feeling better, I dont like these days, they freak me out. I dont like it when everything is static, no movement makes me crazy, not even the wind blows, everything is motion less and it disturbs me as nothing could.

**I wander though China. Without ever having boarded a plane. My travels take place here in the Tokoyo subways, in the backseat of a taxi... all of a sudden this city will start to go. In a flash, the buildings will crumble. Over the Tokyo streets will fall my China, like ash, leaching into everything it touches. Slowly, gradually, until nothing remains. No, this isn't a place for me**
Haruki MurakamiSlow Boat to China

Pic @Flickr- Storm

The weird things about life

How come when ever you are ready to leave someone behind, and the timing and the moment seem like the perfect, exact ones, life gets you paralize for just a second until you can realize that such person is already a step ahead of you?
I'll never forget I was remembered .. I know too, I'll shut up now. I wish I had a lovely pic for this, too bad.

All kinds of ink...

magstattoo
Originally uploaded by Savage Pink.

You just have to love this.. One of my all time favorites in the quote branch. "(*)(x)"

Being Paranoiac...

I remembered why I don’t like children; they scare me. And I know why I don’t like old people; they make me depressed and paranoiac. This is a piece of a long time coming post. I guess there are things I leave behind and out.
I went to church today and there I saw a little girl jumping around graves. Not graves but little wooden spaces still empty, filled with numbers. Numbers¡¡ Not even in death will I be saved of numbers and categories and letters making me something and classifying me into a special place. It won’t say that someone tells me I’m special or that I had changing colour eyes. That is not a pretty thought. And I saw it clear, you know it all along but some times you just see things and they click; everything is a business. People selling candles out side of church, of course you cant sell anything blessed so you have to buy new ones and then go and get them blessed, and.. I don’t know, so many things I forgot all the examples I had but, it simply sucks….
I can explain now. I don’t like children because they remind me of a time in which you were supposed to be happy and free and simply being was allowed. No need to be something specific, just a kid. I guess you could say it was simple because you could blame it all on you being a kid, on not being really sure of the things you said or did. I feel sorry for them. Situations don’t work well when one of the participants feel sorry for the other. They cry and make big messes, just like me, maybe I’m just a kid feeling sorry for myself, kind a like Feeling sorry for Celia , I never read it. The thing is they are so “full of life and hope” they make me sick, they make me remember how one day they’ll wake up and feel heart broken and dead inside.
Old people are the opposite; they wait for the end. I’ve never had to be with someone old for too long, my grandmother lives hours and timelines away, just like I have no young relatives I don’t have old ones, just middle age people sharing a name. They’ve grown at the same time I have so there really is no change in them. I feel paranoiac around them because one day, I want to be old and stubborn. I want to wake up and see my grandchildren at my doorsteps, and have them ask me about cookies and my childhood. And I want to be a sweet grandmother, not a freaky one. I’ll tell my grandchildren about my depressions and they will understand it, they’ll be smart. Like the lady in the office told me today, “My son speaks like five languages, he is kind a smart”

*I have a new favorite movie- Código 46- super futurística jaja, hablan como 4 idiomas como idioma global. Chida..

****If you knew what would happen in the end, Would you be able to take the first step?- Code46***

A failed attemp of song...Ive got the music though

I was out to find you.
I was out to get you.
I started looking out the window.

I was out to love you.
I was out to hold you.
I was there, you were gone.

I'm a character in a Tv show.
I'm a cliche in the making.
An accident waiting to happen.

So I wont move today.
The world will revolve around me this way.
I wont remember you today.
Cause even if I dont you'll be there.

I shouldnt have looked.
I shouldnt have tried.
Now you'r like a ghost.
I feel like breaking you down.

Pic by someone at Flickr.com - Amy in the middle

*Life is a tragedy for those who feel, a comedy for those who think... Jean de la Bruyêre.

Donde los leones vuelan...

DANDELION SEPIA
Originally uploaded by asteri design.

Esperaré.
Lo prometo.
Mientras exista la primavera,
Mientras la Tierra no se detenga.

Las campanas replican, vienen y van.
Dejan que sus voces se pierdan en la inmensidad.
¿será que de tanto declamar se han perdido ya?

Está en el aire, ¿por qué no?
El perfume de jazmín,
-huele a dulces azules-
Las flores muertas volando por ahí
-se meten en todas partes-

Se aparecen en los caminos
Como si fueran el nuevo tapiz de las calles.
Las veo siempre bailando al ritmo del aliento,
Siempre sin acompañante.

Se mueven.
Se dejan llevar por lo que no se ve.
Llegará la lluvia y se los llevará
Sus cabellos estarán tan mojados que se quemarán.

Pero yo seguiré ahí.
Esperaré y mientras espero soplaré.
Velas y flores.

Dormiré bajo sus caricias.
Bajo sus dientes, blancos como espuma.
Suave como plumas
Libres espacios de luz, brillo de estrellas en lo terreno aún.

Donde los ángeles van a morir,
Donde los elefantes se visten de gris.
Donde el tiempo pasa sin pasar.
Donde los leones se atreven a volar, ahí estaré.

***Amo el anuncio de Mercado Libre, el del beso? Me hace reír tanto jejeje. Super lindo...

Emo puppy...

iPug
Originally uploaded by Tigole Bitties.

I'm guessing he's Indie anyway..

I've been wondering lately on and on about a lot of things. One the them being, if by one knowing one wants more? craves for more? does knowledge brings a need for cuantity?? or in the meatter for anything at all to happen, to exist, to be?

I 'll never ask and wait for an answer but if I could, wich I can but just wont, could it be that people were the same that we are now, but before? Is there any posibility that they wanted any of the things we wants now? By things I mean not only material but spiritual. Is posible that they needed someone if they had "no idea" of how anything worked? Did they closed their eyes when a piece of breast came along or saturate their minds with happy thoughts when a certain girl or boy walked by ?

I would love to know what it was to be lusty when they were young. I beat hidding it must have so much fun, they never really cared much about it. I could have lived the 2o's and started something big, really have created something to remember not chessy, just cute. A mess with out a scary or perverted reason in the end. "A mass of contradictions in a golden frame".

I know its alot of pics, the thing is I found a way to upload them directly from the website and its the only way to copy/paste them into my computer jeje. Watch the movie, the one with Penelope Cruz and Charlize Theron I dont the name jeje, its suppose to be in the movie list right now, its fun so far jeje. Its so The Dreamers, but with two girls and just one guy...

Baby forgot to take her meds...ji

I feel like flying. I feel like rambling, like taking off. That’s what I love about my car, I can speak out loud and no one can say much about it, maybe the driver next to me, but then again he/she doesn’t have to listen to me.
I feel like falling, like taking a leap. It was brilliant I swear. It was great. I love writing, I love singing. I love being able to create worlds around me. I’m complete. For a fraction of second I can be eternal.
And I call the others selfish… I’m as ego- centred as one can be… I love talking about me, about the things I am.
I’m fire. I’m burnt. I’ve been since I can remember, I love being hated. And listening to music in languages I can’t understand. Sometimes.
Its now, or a while ago as I drove, that I realized the power that writing gives you. Taking words and putting them together making them have some sense at all. You own them, you make them live as they slip off your mouth or your hands. The traces of ink left on the paper are the one memory of you, the one sign that you existed.
It’s like giving and taking life. I feel like taking life. I’m a vampire. Words are like drops of blood falling from an open mouth, dripping, slipping, being wasted. Blood is life, life escapes from my mouth. And I’m babbling.
Like a razor on the skin. I hate bore. Razors like bore, they do because they can kill it. They like feeling strangers, outsiders to a cold skin. They are intruders to warm muscles, to liquids and fibbers. Its inside out, open and close, clean and messy and all the other contradictions you can find.
I’m blind, she’s too. But she sees him everywhere, she is craving for him, she longs for him. She lives inside me. I hate her. Lately she’s around way too much; she takes my head and my mind. She’s weird.
I’m giggling, not now but before. Why can’t I have some kind of tape recorder to just start babbling and have it all to type later? I couldn’t stop smiling. The sky was blue now its black. There are no stars, where are they now? Falling somewhere?
One day I’ll live in Italy, near a lonely beach in a one bedroom place, I don’t care, maybe just for a week. I’ll live on water melons and rice water. I’ll type a page per day, a poem a week will be allow.
Maybe I should stop now. I can’t remember anything more, only that I love the Placebo cd, and I could hear Pierrot the clown ten times in a row… J’adore.

- If your ever around, in the city or the suburs of this town, be sure to come around- Pierrot the clow, Placebo... been listening too much lately.. I love it¡¡¡¡

Richard Avedon, 1997

Richard Avedon, 1997
Originally uploaded by softr.

No les encantan los tatuajes? A mi si, tal vez nunca tenga uno, ya me pasó la epoca pero esto es algo uqe nunca había visto, me impresionó. Hugs..

Por las memorias ya perdidas...

Nunca quiero olvidar. Aunque sea la maldición de muchos, mi memoria es lo mejor de mí y nunca la quiero perder. Me encanta cuando recordando un día insignificante puedes hacer una cadena entera de eventos que te llevan a lo maravilloso de un día o de una situación. Hay recuerdos que nunca pensaste guardarías pero que siguen ahí dando vueltas, como las cosas que te pasaron cuando estabas chiquito, estar en el jardín de casa de tu tía y le toman una foto a tus primas y a ti no. O cuando te caíste y volaste por las escaleras del patio de la escuela y te quedo una cicatriz en la rodilla.
Es más fácil olvidar lo que no se quiere recordar; los días malos, las historias perdidas, las lágrimas escondidas y como te duele la nariz. Aun así no son cosas que se pueden dejar atrás, siempre es mejor recordar.
Hay situaciones que nos traen instintos, que deberíamos borrar, pero si lo hiciéramos ¿no nos arrepentiríamos después? Algunas veces el tiempo tiene que pasar para que podamos reírnos de la vida por que aunque es mejor reírse con ella desde un principio no siempre es posible. Y es por eso que he decidido que hay cosas que nunca quiero olvidar; mi primer año de secundaria y mis clases de inglés, mi pelea con las que nunca creí serían mis mejores amigas, mi cumpleaños de Trolls, mi cumpleaños # 20, mi primera serenata, cuando atropellaron a mi maestra de pintura, cuando me llamaron bruja, cuando dejó de hablarme mi amiga de toda la vida, cuando el breakdown primero, tantas palabras dichas en orden equivocado y así creo que muchas cosas más, no son importantes pero son mías. Al final, todo es un juego y por eso, hay que perdonarlo, no?
Es sólo vida.

-Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en Rose- Edith Piaf, La vie en rose