Hola a mis 7 followers. Espero vean esto y se metan a mi nuevo blog que es: http://citysketches.wordpress.com/
Prometo postear mucho más y espero poder captar su interés y lograr traer mas gente que se meta. Saludos y gracias por el apoyo.
I'm obsessed with a post-apocalyptic world. The story I once conjured won't leave me alone. I still see a world on the brink of forgetting itself.
"The saddest image I’ve seen during my travels through this barren city is that of a blind man looking for colors…"
" He wrote: Tokyo is a city crisscrossed by trains, tied together with electric wire she shows her veins."
Chris Marker, "Sans Soleil"
Here I stand motionless for there is no need to move. Not now. The city breathes and her veins are flooded for seconds. Her heart beats now and then, just enough to keep her alive. Of the millions of paths that dwell inside her I think I forgot the one I had to take. I know. I could take any cab towards any part of her and think, "I'm here." But the truth is we are rarely were we are supposed to be. And as I grasp this new notion, I still stand motionless while life manifests all around me. I can look at the man with the briefcase and speculate where he is heading and maybe, just maybe, I might guess. But does that really make a difference? Aren't we all subjects to the same fate? Or I could look at that old lady, her expression covered with the ripples of time, and try to read the lines on her face like she were some old tree stump in the middle of nowhere. But I can only see that she also stands motionless, contemplating some piece of the city, some of its tissue, perhaps looking for her spent years.
And the list goes on as people flow through the cities veins. We are but small fragments of God's conscience and the city is one of his memory cells.
I just started working and it feels good. It was about time. But as much as I needed this it's not enough. Recently things have changed for me in other areas and these changes have unearthed old wounds and scars. Scars I thought had healed. And in all this mess I feel washed and thin, detached from those secret places I use to visit. I can no longer speak like I used to I can no longer walk, breath, dream like I used to. Her face represents so many things but I realize I don't have any control over it. Anyways, I'll be back. I want to try and post something different now.
As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.
'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,
'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.
'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'
But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.
'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.
'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.
'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.
'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.
'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.
'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.
'O look, look in the mirror?
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.
'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'
It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.
W.H. Auden
Haven't posted in a long time and I actually miss it. But things have been a bit strange the past days. I'm expecting quite a lot of from life in the next two weeks and I'm a scared because this time, if things don't turn out how I expect them, the blow will be too hard. But I remain optimistic, somehow.
I also realized that I'm afraid to be with someone else. Actually I'm much more afraid than I thought I was. But in some strange way it feels liberating. Like if I could see myself clearly for the first time since I ended my last relationship. And I guess this helps me be more honest with myself.
Anyways, night world. Today I fall asleep with a deep fire inside me. I'm happy.
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