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seculorum

Take it as a continuous renewal of contracts: the seasons follow one another, the white papers to torana yellow , a cuttlefish. A sigh (behind, sometimes hopeful, sometimes more than resigned) wins my vocal cords, in a sense stretch. Because one always fit into the possibilities. And I notice a bunch of allegories, like a grape known.

the time one waits for the coffee to your taste does not burn, the period in which you realize that, so much wanting to open the wall to clean header, you forgot there was a door ready to escape (lock, a bad binary and necessary). What it takes hide yourself in metaphors, something as intangible, metaphysical factor that will make us lose more hair, more faith weakens, rub hands after delivery (and return to the locks). Recurrences in a while vague, came to assert their dues.

I think of a forever (with something, someone, self) if our due date is on the inside. And if one is convinced of being so product , most perishable friend with her. How to forget something we can not understand, a clear mismatch, a music box in which the dancer begins her ritual with years of delay on the music. Your compass setting the pendulum in which I became, giving a light rubble my attention. My wireless kit. Anchor kilometers. Provided me with memories, poetry cheap, basic aesthetic.

invaded the vague memory, kick to win the hinges. No imported locks. It was within the possibilities. Aspirin.

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Texts III

The body is a (THURSDAY 14 JANUARY 2010)

white lines on the floor. Now so far, but he remembered it, and how. Many fled to kiss you and kiss your face. Long, obstacle in the way, as always, as sometimes, as obvious but unexpected obstacles. Pylons long pass plays, or let your face refuge.

What about one without obstacles? I could not conceive of a way entirely smooth, static, motionless. Without the opportunity to give the sport use and abuse national (not a duck, but a question of marketing is more affable and propose, logic dictates that something is more deeply rooted, even football, complain about everything and everyone.)

Pleasing to the eye, yes. But trying to walk, I challenge you. Pushing the air, entering a colorless gel. Trying to move, and the floor pushes you away. There is no friction. And Caesar. Again. Another ten, another hundred, another five hundred. And the lack of laws between you and your soil makes it all falls are violent. One after another.

a Simple traction with its impedance, which help to take off or just perhaps, to move forward with the inertia of the world. On autopilot. Hesitant to circumvent or bypass orange road cones. Exaggerating the swings, nodding in the straights. How good have the opportunity, even once, to send the cones to hell.

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Point

atoms do not suffer. Or should not. As constant change. Separations, unions, and all that that brings to mind the collective unconscious about it (without paying more attention, like a boring chemistry class in ninth grade, but that is another water mill). Atoms Stoics have no choice but to be transformed according to the whims of the architect of the universe. Never mind the process, as so much care about the product, the results do not remember thinking that no way to Rome. Atoms victims of metaphors in vain that spit two tired hands.

Hunger

Love is like hunger. There are gourmets, almost elitist, difficult please. There are also people with strong stomachs, able to engage emotionally, or perhaps to circumvent such conflictosde.

We do, it could act so that the appetite for the opposite sex is not so prejudiced, we, the last bites of the dish we are cooling. Hunger is like love.

So many dishes, which only see cloying.

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Rain has fallen and formed puddles. Look at the ceiling, filled with moisture. Full reports leave no room for new penalties, and without energy even thinking. The concentration placed on the pain that that love was unrequited, the water never diluted. He wanted to eradicate.

left the door open and no one came. Revolving door that never sleeps. Whose comings and goings stagger their temperance. Sliding door, long hallway. Closed under the nose of a man vanished. That only by stepping on the puddle could see his disfigured face. Aggravated by the environment. Along the path he had to return. Along the path came to that door. Already

had no regrets, Underneath its doors, a pool of tears.

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bail out bail out bail out texts Texts II

Bolt (THURSDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2009)

you will take the time to forget me, and I, unpretentious, phrases shoot with me a long time ago.

not recognize your face, your eyes do not have the same color. Do not know your name. Not be the same. Your tastes differ from mine. You will not feel compelled to talk about art, politics or religion. Nobody ties, it's you and the atmosphere is with you. It is crowded, but you catch my attention.

Tomaras

other drinks, will ask other flavors, you comb the bangs to the other side (or towards it), deflect my gaze, I shall wait. But I know I'll be there with different friends, or only wanting to get out of yourself.

will show you another flush, I poisoned your sweet perfume, while words forced tighten the strings. And I will focus on your new gestures, your new hands, your new tricks to wrap, wrap. To innovate and turn over the wheel for perpetual motion is not corrupt and defile the sad and exhausting exercise loneliness. Because if you have to be murderers of a routine, which is that of the hated solitude (beneficiary and oxygenate at times, but always vilipendiaré)

and expressed surprise at my interest, the renewed interest, that that was damaged, that my pride took as hostage. Before balancing tears, saliva now gives me track to reach you, the center itself, to excuse. Magnifica regeneration, long time to achieve, infinity to perfect and show no weakness. The force is usually so perishable.

And we used that beautiful costume use (and that imagination and turns of life we \u200b\u200bjironea, adjust, exaggerate, minimize), come on. The same ritual once in a while. Outside yourself and see new faces. New old faces. Those who seek to perpetuate. In another body and in other situations. Those who choose to perpetuate.

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I

As in the previous blog had begun to count (to download, to give my view of what occurred, for which I want to read) my misfortune with the attempted robbery that I had done as 2 years. An anecdote, can one come to think. A turning point and a new opportunity to put him attitude to things I was doing autopilot, I come to the conclusion.

Chapter I: The wrong and premonition click (FRIDAY 19 SEPTEMBER 2008)

Wednesday July 23, 2008. 1:45 pm. Scenario: the cyber neighborhood, accompanying Álvaro (just an excuse, he also had wanted to go, despite having been connected all afternoon cumpa as a faculty). He had finished moving all the files that were loaded into the cell, had prepared everything for posting my article as a guest on http://moccoloko.tk as usual. A moment of distraction, and all faded to black. WTF!

had logged out of the wrong machine (mine), making the twenty minute file transfer, plus a photo retobar not-wanted-get on the blog (thanks Miarroba) be converted a waste of time and a joke (bad). The vein in the bottom, but the manager did not charge me, so not so pale.

Once outside, mumble a few more obscenities, and my friend tried to calm down. Slightly less enervated, I made my way home. As we drove, we made the classic farewell to distance, but this time (and do not ask me why), with a tinge of foreboding rather defeatist:

Álvaro: "Do not make me forget the phone ring;

Me: "Look, with the luck I have, can not come home with him

Álvaro:" Do not be idiot ...

Me (laughing): "And if all that remains is that I steal;

already half a block from my house, I saw a suspicious face, so I hurried over. He also, unfortunately, that bad day to be literal.

Chapter II: to fall and keep running (SATURDAY 16 MAY 2009)

"I get, I'm just half a block from my home," she thought as to encourage me, walking fast. With so much bad luck that in a blink, the thief (visibly turned, sucking face, as someone who does not steal out of necessity, say, sky diving, hooded and hood) and a push pull on me to make me fall , which for the moment did not happen.

Thief: "Give me the cell

Me:" No, why

L: Dale crazy or hit you shot (gesturing a gun with his fingers under the hooded sweatshirt)

I (distrustful of a similar situation 3 years ago, which came out unscathed): No, not a fart, I left (and threw to run, but not give me the angle)

Much is said and promised at election time. One can see how totally unpaved streets (avenues busy usually) appear smooth and flat, plain and simple to please the voters and keep the job. And made the descent line, I wonder why then, in pursuit of pleasing with these acts, not paved streets in this city that really is shameful. Well, the corner of my house is one of them.

The bump (and my rush to get as fast as possible) makes me fall (the stalk of the fall still have). Just sit up (all with the intention of saving), I have it in front of me, and the bad light that shines on me, I can see how, in a split second, one discovers the waist, revealing a tip (metal, about 20 cm. long and 3 wide), which he draws and nailed me.

I felt as if I had done was put a finger across the row between the ribs. Even without knowing what I had done (there was no time to cersiorarme, say), corrosion and instinctively, I pressed the area, and scream wildly for help. A primal scream, heartbreaking.

I get to my house, and with the light from the front and my hand wrapped in a warm liquid, yell Open for me, I just punctured a lung. To all this, the thief I followed the steps, but at 1 / 4 of a block, and seeing who lived nearby and could retaliate on him (which would have been nice), he turned the corner, staggering and stumbling to the broken tiles.

In short, the third part of it for nothing Copant history.

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Far

Perhaps it is another way of seeing things. Change formats, change ways of seeing things. People, events, taught one to seek new ways to download. Violence, prose. Irony, sarcasm, half-way.

is a mere verbiage. Sequels arrive with the inertia of what has been done. In this case, I made an incredible brothel with Gmail accounts .. And I had to disable the other, in some respects

Soon a backup with some texts of the old crudity.