INTERNATIONAL

478b - Purple Princess

2011-10-20T00:00:00.000+02:00

She was, sure enough, Princess Purple or rather Purple Princess. It was really by her father’s specific wish, Little Purple Princess wouldn’t change with time. She was Pur prin in the privacy, pronounced something like /ˈpɜːrprɪn/

Granite mountains where beeches and spruces grew in harmonious coexistence, caressing morning fogs and low clouds were left behind in the distance. Very far away were also left the stories told by blonde governesses, in languages full of consonants at the light of large fireplaces while thick logs were crackling becoming bright embers.

Memories of her father, with a pompous compound name and long surnames of complicated genealogy were closer. He had to resign his throne by the pressure and thread of republican hordes out of control.

She was living now, in a golden exile, in a small village in the French side of the Pyrenees, very close to Coll de Ares. She was always seen with a large glass of Pelforth Blonde beer, always accompanied by her black chauffeur, Ray Charles’ perfect double and her dark young gardener who reminded Marlon Brandon in his early years. Always. She was always in the same little square which led to the big church and a little farther going out from the fortified city, to the Fort that had protected the town from Spanish sieges.

She did not know anything about that, nor was she interested in events happened up to three centuries ago. She was much more interested in the crowd of flatterers and admirers surrounding her.

Her gaze fixed on the narrow main street, goes beyond the borders yearning for his native land. She liked to walk on stormy days along the Tech banks that reminded her of troubled waters from her childhood. She also liked to eat wild strawberries, currants and raspberries brought by her gardener when he climbed some nearby peak in his days off. The path edges were adorned with all these delicacies.

Nobody would ever breath a word about this, as it would always be a well kept secret, that she wasn’t a princess, nor was she exiled or there wasn’t any kingdom called Purpleland. Nobody would ever tell her that all her life had been a tale, a big tale, invented by her father; a renowned watchmaker who was an expert making all the pieces fit perfectly in tiny mechanisms.

It was the story of her life, a story intended to make happy a six year old blond girl with the most bluish eyes by a supposed king.

394B - As dez e dez

2010-09-03T00:00:00.001+02:00

As dez e dez.

Sentado.

Sentado entre dous esteos. Dous esteos que sustentan

a humanidade encalecida.

Grises, coma esa humanidade na que me mergullo

enchoupando os meus inertes ósos.

Hoxe tamén o vin. E hai dous días. E hai dous días de hai dous días.

E así, moitos días.

Hoxe tampouco fixen nada. Tampouco. Non. Non fixen nada. Nada.

Segues aí. Estático. Ás dez e dez. Tódolos días son para ti as dez e dez. Canto levas aí, na túa pousada multiestrela?

E ese can? Quizais sexa soamente a presenza da fidelidade...

ou a denuncia doutras infidelidades.

O can das dez e dez. Tamén. Ancorado no tempo sen tempo.

Xamais un gruñido. Xamais un ladro.

Quizais sabe que eu non merezo nin iso.

Nin un ladro.

Hoxe tampouco fixen nada. Quizais, quizais mañá che bote unhas moedas

coas que pagar o meu desacougo. Non me preguntei polo prezo. Non o poderei pagar.

Nunca me censurou a túa ollada. Non me miras.

Que esteas aí xa é suficiente tormento.

Non sei se sabes iso. Non creo que che importe. Nin ao teu can.

Quizais mañá che diga algo.

Quizais.

Dime que queres que che diga. Non sei que dicirche!

Non hai nada que dicir cando as palabras están feitas de sons baleiros. Axúdame!

Quizais. Quizais tamén eu estea detido nas dez e dez.

Apreixado.

Apreixado e sen un can que me acompañe.

E sen ninguén que me diga palabras baleiras.

Sen ninguén.

◄ Desde a Gaiola ►
◄ A nena do paraugas ►

enlaces a dos mundos con vida propia

que un día, por casualidad, encontré... y me quedé

Concha López Fernández, a nena,

leyó algunos de mis escritos

y decidió traducir el que antecede a estas líneas

para decirle gracias sólo se necesita una palabra

... o ninguna

que el aire lo transporta todo

◄ 394b►
As dez e dez • INT032/100903 © 070928-P1030837-El hombre de las diez y diez © Lumix DMC-TZ5 - f/4.2 - 1/80 seg - 48 mm* - ISO 100 en castellano lo encontrarás aquí: Cristal Rasgado: Las diez y diez

293 - The blue taxi girl

2009-07-13T11:09:00.015+02:00

She is patiently waiting for the arrival of a taxi. I am talking to her. She is telling it to me. Apparently, all the girls waiting for a taxi tell stories.

Occasionally, she averts her eyes, without losing attention, to have some snack to get her strength back. She has been waiting for many days. She tells me exactly, without looking up in any diary, the hours she has spent there sitting on that small square from which all the visitors that New York devours, take photographs to the flatiron Building. She tells me it is “La Plancha”, that’s the way other people call it.

I say nothing. I don’t want to discourage her since I have the certainty, sorry, I would say almost the certainty that her wait will be eternal. I mean, her wait for a blue taxi.

I don’t need to make her many questions. She is talking in a soft voice about the taxi. It has to be a blue one, she is not wearing yellow clothes for that special occasion in vain.

I hint to her that New York is full of white limousines. She moves her hands disdainfully but delicately in an eloquent gesture. I also talk to her about black limousines, fewer than white ones; but there are still quite a few. However, she keeps insisting. Blue is the colour which suits her best. It suits her, as if she were her clothing.

I go closer to a street stall and bring her a passion fruit juice. It’s hot. 76ºF and humidity is high. She asks me if there weren’t orange or peach juices. Better an orange one.

While I am coming back with the juice, now an orange one, hundreds of taxis pass by in every direction. I know I won’t see any blue one… but I stare at them as if my happiness would depend on it.

Hurries

Fast taxis dye the Fifth Avenue with minimal yellow shooting stars.
Fast pedestrians leave the tracks of their existence in the air.
Trees tied to the noise mistake their shades for a false sky.
And a false sea climbs the skyscrapers.

Speed

And hurriedly, a warm tree wants to come to a square,
where a girl dressed in yellow, was waiting for a taxi,
to tell her the secret everybody conceals from her.
Blue doesn’t exist. It doesn’t exist in movement.
.
.
.

:::Post 293 INT 031 - 090526 - The blue taxi girl
:::photo 1: 090513-C1556 - La chica del taxi azul - f/3.5 - 1/400 seg - 420*mm
:::photo 2: 090515-C1628 - Prisas - f/2.7 - 1/4 seg - 36*mm
:::photo 3: 090509 -P1020565 - Arbol veloz - f/3.3 - 1/60 seg - 30*mm
:::link: Spanish version: Cristal Rasgado - La chica del taxi azul

292 - Maps

2009-07-10T07:00:00.010+02:00

ñoco!

daddy!. look!. a map!

yeah. the map of our world

let's show it to mum

it's not necessary. she lives within

:::Pos 292 - INT 030/090710 – Maps
:::photo: 060723 - Líquenes en el Pico Salvaguard - Bagneres de Luchon / Benasque - Pirineos franceses
:::Sony Cibershot P1 - f/5.6 - 1/540 seg - 30 mm*
:::Link: Spanish version - LMA 094 - Mapas

269 - I knocked on heaven’s door

2009-04-13T22:40:00.018+02:00

I was in a small village, close to the only city on the northern shore facing south; I was intent on photographing a small and simple, but lovely blossom, when a dazzling glint drew my attention away. I held the camera away from my face and carefully studied the lens. It was spotless.

I glanced up at the sun, but failed to detect anything out of the ordinary. I resumed my efforts to capture a magical moment from that flower, but once again caught a glimmer, rather brighter this time. I let go of the camera and glimpsed at the sun. Nothing, there was nothing to see.

When I was about to pick up the camera, which I ended up failing to do, I detected a glow from the corner of my eye. On turning my head around, there it was, hovering above the flower shrubs, about two meters high. My countenance paled.

I am a non-believer. I believe in nothing... or virtually nothing. Had I believed in anything at all, I would have said it was an angel, which stood the same chance of being male or female since no distinguishing features were evident.

I distinctly understood I was being told with a charming smile, despite no perceptible movement of the thin lips, “go, seek and ye shall find”. Yes, that’s the message that sank in, “go, seek and ye shall find”.

I felt dumbfounded. This couldn’t be happening to me. Where should I go? What should I seek? What would I find? Moreover, who was that creature? Would I have to ascribe it an identity and acknowledge its existence?

I could accomplish nothing else that day. Well, actually I did do something. I spent the remainder of the day mulling over what had happened. To me, a sceptic, an intractable agnostic.

I had knocked. Yes, I had knocked. I had knocked on heaven’s door, although convinced there is no heaven, rather, persuaded that there is hell on earth, interspersed with heavenly instants at the most.

A door had opened. There it was, this apparition, smiling its charming smile. Repeating the words, “go, seek and ye shall find”. I envisioned a hazy scene. Momentarily, I felt like I was standing on the Moon or Mars maybe.

Next morning, I was heading out to Lanzarote without any conscious aim; once there, I sniffed each and every volcanic stone, following an unknown trail. I penetrated the earth’s entrails and bathed in the volcano’s warmth until I utterly dissolved through the pores in my skin...

I came back to myself with the strange feeling that I had sustained a gratifying experience. That was it.

Once again, I knocked on heaven’s door. Rather unnecessarily, since the apparition awaited me at the doorway. Repeating “go, seek and ye shall find”. Yet again, I envisioned a hazy scene. I was under the sea, naked; surrounded by many people quite different from me.

Next day, I was flying to Toba in Japan, without any apparent reason; a reception committee of petite women welcomed me there and escorted me to an inlet; however, I still remained in the dark. We submerged underwater where they taught me the free diving technique, which I quickly grasped.

They were experts, having been raised to extract the best pearls from the seabed and they told me that one day death would meet them there. They were happy and smiled all the time. I reciprocated the best I could.

They bid me farewell. In their view I had learned all I needed to know and they prompted me to embark on a quest where nobody else had before.

I knocked on heaven’s door. This time nobody was there to meet me. There was only a silvery sign that read: North – island – chilly – underwater. It made no sense to me. Only the word north provided any clue.

I decided to leave it to fate. I took the road and stopped the first car I came upon. It was heading north. Days elapsed and, by some fortuitous happenstance, all cars I hailed were bound north. That’s how I eventually reached a shore with a tiny island off the coast. Later, I found out it extended barely over 30 square kilometres.

At the beach, the water was at nearly freezing point. Of course, I mused, this is the North Sea, how could the water be otherwise. On the other hand, the indications on heaven’s door started to make sense.

Recalling my Japanese friends, I undressed and plunged into the water. Indefatigably, I swam in unusually translucent waters. I was all alone. No coloured fish. No coral reefs, nothing at all. Just fine white sand.

I don’t know how much time elapsed, but finally I caught sight of it. A distinct shimmer. Perhaps the same one I had noticed when I was photographing the blossom.

From the bottom of my heart I was grateful to my Japanese masters for teaching me the art of free diving. There I was, effortlessly holding my breath without gasping, timelessly, while beholding...

...the most beautiful pearl ever conceived.

Who could dream up such a pearl in those cold waters?

I lost track of time. My eyes were completely fastened on that pearl. Beholding the pearl transformed my life. The world changed colours. Flowers became more beautiful, mountains higher, music more melodious, ordinary food more delicious... Everything a delight for the senses.

I was slowly dying. Day after day I would submerge to gaze at the pearl. My pearl. It never occurred to me to remove it. It was in its proper place.

Little by little, the sea filled up with multi coloured fish. The coral reef emerged. Water became warmer. I didn’t need to surface to gasp for air. My skin was breathing for me. I just needed to contemplate the pearl. To know it was there. That was enough.

One day, out of the blue, the water turned murky, very dark. It happened suddenly. I never found out the cause, but I did know the effects. There were no more corals or coloured fish.
I could no longer hold my breath in that inferno, oxygen was now scarce. Were I to attempt seeking a reason further below, my death would inevitably hasten. I was slowly dying.

Now, closer to death, I remember. I remember I once had, without possessing, the most beautiful pearl in the whole world. Now, to etch the memory clearly in my mind’s eye, I engross in Vermeer’s painting, the Girl with a Pearl Earring, to the accompaniment of Lisa Gerrard’s Whale Riders, while I slowly continue to die.

*

P.D. Dedicated to the pearl, my own Pearl
And yes, I eventually managed to take the picture of the blossom

This new version in English is a translation kindly rendered

by Giuditta - Centro del Corazón ©

///Post 269 INT 029/090413 - I knocked on heaven's door - WAST 070321
///photo: 070629-C2120 - Feijoa Selloana - Estambres / La joven de la perla - Veermer (de Internet)
///links: Versiones en Inglés - Gallego - Francés - Árabe - Chino

242 - Closed

2009-02-05T11:11:00.005+01:00

closed, closed, closed
a thousand treasures it keeps in

closed, closed, closed
they will be soul experiences

children’s memories
passed letters
borrowed words
closed, closed, closed
a thousand treasures they keep in

that right now they are nothing

///Post 242 INT 028/090205 - Closed
///photo: 080603/C6230 - Camino de Santiago - Foncebadón - León
///link: Spanish version - Cristal Rasgado - Cerradas

239 - Manifiesto Solidario - Internacional

2009-01-31T19:17:00.005+01:00

Imagina...

un grano de sal no hace salado el mar

une tu grano esta formidable iniciativa

nacida en el blog de Cornelivs

para salar los océanos de la injusticia

únete

hasta que se convierta en un clamor universal

SPANISH - ENGLISH - FRENCH

MANIFIESTO POR LA SOLIDARIDAD
·
··
···

QUIENES SOMOS

Los que suscribimos este manifiesto somos ciudadanos en el pleno uso de nuestros derechos civiles, y titulares de la soberanía popular, de la cual emanan los poderes del Estado.

Los firmantes nos dirigimos a todos los ciudadanos del mundo, conocedores de la situación de pobreza, hambre y enfermedad en la que se encuentra gran parte de la población humana en un momento histórico, como el actual, en el que se disponen de los suficientes medios políticos, económicos y científicos que pudieran solucionar estos problemas.

Este manifiesto tiene vocación de universalidad, y va dirigido a toda la humanidad, a cada ser humano que habita el planeta, para que tome conciencia de la terrible situación a la que se enfrentan millones de personas y de alguna manera actúe en consecuencia para terminar con esta insostenible situación. Por ello la versión original en español será traducida a diversas lenguas, pues nuestro propósito consiste en hacer oír la voz de la opinión pública en los lugares en las que se toman las decisiones políticas y económicas del mundo.

A QUIÉN NOS DIRIGIMOS:

Nos dirigimos a la clase política gobernante de nuestros países; así como a los más altos mandatarios de las Organizaciones Internacionales, tales como la Organización de las Naciones Unidas, y a los Presidentes y Gobiernos de los países más poderosos económicamente de la Tierra.

LES MANIFESTAMOS:

1.- Que este texto tiene su origen en la constatación de la extrema situación de necesidad y de hambre que sufre una gran parte de la población de la Tierra y en el desigual e injusto reparto de bienes que existe actualmente en el mundo. Entendemos que la ecuanimidad y la armonía en el mundo tienen por base el reconocimiento de la dignidad intrínseca y de los derechos iguales e inalienables de todos los miembros de la familia humana, por lo cual es inadmisible que una gran parte de la población mundial tenga que enfrentarse a una realidad tan precaria, a tal grado de injusticia y desigualdad, a tanta hambre, pobreza y desnutrición.

2.- Que consideramos que dicha situación es intrínsecamente perversa y no admisible ni moral ni éticamente, dado que todos los seres humanos nacen libres e iguales. Igualmente, tenemos presente que todos los ciudadanos del mundo tienen esos derechos desde el mismo instante de su nacimiento y no como una promesa futura cuya conquista dependa de la realidad política, social o económica de sus países.

3.- Que defendemos que es completamente injusto, inmoral y un crimen humanitario punible ante los tribunales internacionales y la Historia que, en pleno Siglo XXI, existan seres humanos que pasen hambre en el mundo, y que mueran por ello. Que es un agravante de ese crimen que, existiendo las leyes internacionales suficientes, así como los medios técnicos, económicos y científicos para corregir dicha situación, los que ejercen el poder en el mundo no lleven a cabo las acciones necesarias para solucionar lo que generaciones futuras calificarán de verdadero genocidio en el que serán culpables todos aquellos que, teniendo los medios para solucionar el problema, no los hayan empleado.

4.- Que consideramos que esta injusta situación es contraria al Derecho Natural, a los Derechos Humanos y a las normas de la más elemental ética, y entendemos que ha llegado el momento de que la voz de la opinión pública exija de sus gobernantes el final de tal estado de cosas.

5.- Que el presente manifiesto no es un manifiesto utópico; y que tampoco es un manifiesto político, ni se pretende con el mismo la instauración de un nuevo orden político o socio-económico mundial, ni ningún menoscabo del tejido empresarial, sanitario y social del mundo desarrollado, sino la más elemental justicia con los desfavorecidos.

POR TODO ELLO, EXIGIMOS A NUESTROS GOBERNANTES:

1.- La adopción de medidas inmediatas y urgentes para paliar tal situación de hambre, enfermedad y desnutrición en el tercer mundo. Consideramos que tales medidas no constituyen una utopía, sino que son perfectamente viables y posibles.

2.- Mantener el compromiso de cumplir los Objetivos del Milenio que, establecidos por Naciones Unidas en el año 2000, definen los principios a los que ha de ajustarse la actuación de los países y del sistema económico internacional para superar, con el horizonte fijado en 2015, las injusticias que aquejan a la humanidad.

3.- La realización de acciones solidarias sistemáticas con los países más desfavorecidos y que se establezca un orden lógico y humano de prioridades en la política económica, con proyectos inteligentes que creen riqueza y puestos de trabajo en los países afectados, facilitando un desarrollo sostenible y un progreso que les ayude a la consolidación de una red sanitaria, económica y social estable que haga posible el retorno a una situación de partida igualitaria.

4.- Que se tomen las medidas necesarias para que los países ricos destinen una parte de sus presupuestos a la creación de riqueza, de empresas y de fuentes de trabajo en los países afectados; así como la adopción de un acuerdo internacional, que debería subscribirse en la ONU de obligado cumplimiento para los países desarrollados.

5.- La implantación de un código ético que regule la estrategia de las empresas multinacionales, así como la eliminación de los paraísos fiscales y la aplicación de la tasa Tobin, ú otra similar, a las transacciones comerciales internacionales, que permita crear un fondo de solidaridad gestionado por Naciones Unidas.

6.- No aceptaremos simples declaraciones de principios que no se traduzcan en políticas concretas. En definitiva, APELAMOS al sentido de la generosidad y humanidad de todos, y fundamentalmente de la clase política internacional económicamente poderosa.

Desde la tierra que espera y cree firmemente en la Solidaridad que construya un mundo mejor y más justo, a 30 de enero de 2009"

MANIFESTO ON BEHALF OF SOLIDARITY.

WHO WE ARE

We, the endorsers of this Manifesto, are citizens on total use of our civil rights and holders of popular sovereignty, from where State Powers are emanated.

We, the signers, aware of the situation of poverty, hunger and illness in which great part of the human population lives despite being in a historical moment, as the current one, where sufficient political, economical and scientific means are available so as to solve these problems, address to all world citizens.

This public declaration is a universal calling which heads for the whole humanity, to each human being that inhabits this planet, for them to become aware for the terrible situation that millions of people have to face and, somehow, to encourage them to act accordingly, to bring to an end this unsustainable situation. This is why the original version in Spanish will be translated to different languages, since our intention is that the public opinion´s voice is heard in those places where political and economical decisions are adopted.

WHOM DO WE ADDRESS TO?:

We address to all the politicians who rule our countries; as well as to the highest heads of International Organizations, such as The United Nations, and to presidents and governments of the richest and most powerful countries of the world.

WE DECLARE:

1.- That this text has its origin in the certain fact of the extreme situation of the needs and hunger a big part of the world’s population suffers and in the current unequal and unfair distribution of the properties existing in the earth. We understand that the equanimity and the harmony in our planet must exist based in the acknowledgment of the equal, inalienable and intrinsic dignity of all the members of the human family, that is why it is unacceptable that a big part of the world’s population has to face such a precarious reality with this level of injustice, inequality, hunger, poverty and malnutrition.

2.- Since all human beings are born to be free, we believe that this situation is particularly evil and unethical. We also plead that all citizens in the world must have these rights in the same moment they are brought to life and not as a future promise to be reached depending of the political, social or economical reality of their homeland.

3.- We defend what is utterly unfair, immoral and a humanitarian punishable crime before the international courts and the History that right in the 21st century there still exist human beings starving in this World and dying because of that. It is an aggravating circumstance that, existing enough international laws and technical, economical and scientific means to correct the aforementioned situation, those who have the power in the world do not carry out the necessary actions to solve what future generations will only describe as a real genocide in which they all will be guilty for having the means to solve the problem, but not using them.

4.-We consider this unfair situation to be against the Natural Law, the Human Rights and the procedure of the most elementary ethical principles, and we understand that the moment has come in which the voice of the public opinion demands from their leaders the end of such state of affairs.

5.- That this is neither a utopian nor a political manifesto, and it does not expect the founding of a new political or socio-economic world order, nor any damage to the business, sanitary or social network of the First World, but the most elementary justice with the underprivileged.

BECAUSE OF ALL THE FACTS AFOREMENTIONED, WE DEMAND OF OUR LEADERS:

1. To adopt immediate and urging measures to alleviate such a situation of hunger, illness and malnutrition in the Third World. We think that such measures do not represent any utopia as they are perfectly feasible and possible.

2. To maintain the promise of fulfilling the Millenium Objetives which were established by the UN in the year 2000. These Objectives define the principles that the countries and the international economical system must follow in order to overcome the unfair situations humanity suffers towards the year 2015 (as it was agreed).

3. To perform systematically acts of solidarity towards the countries in an unfavourable position and to establish a logical and human order of priorities in the economical policy, including intelligent projects that create wealth and jobs in the aforementioned countries, offering sustainable development and progress to help them to consolidate a permanent social, economical and health service network that makes it possible for them to start from an equal position.

4. To take the necessary steps so that the richest countries allocate part of their national budgets to create wealth, companies and work sources in the aforementioned countries, as well as to adopt an international agreement, which should be compulsory for the developed countries and signed in the UN.

5. To implement an ethical code that regulates the multinational companies strategy, as well as the elimination of the tax havens and the application of the Tobin Tax —or a similar one— to the international commercial transactions, that will allow to create a solidarity fund managed by the UN.

6. We will not accept simple declarations of principles that are not transformed into specific policies. In other words, we appeal to everybody’s sense of generosity and humanity, especially from the ones who belong to the international ruling class that have the economical power.

From the Earth that waits and believes firmly in the Solidarity that can build a better and fairer world, 30th January 2009.

MANIFESTE POUR LA SOLIDARITÉ

QUI SOMMES-NOUS

Les adhérents à ce manifeste sommes des citoyens en plein usage de nos droits civils et titulaires de la souveraineté populaire, de laquelle émanent les pouvoirs de l'État.

Les signataires nous nous adressons à tous les citoyens du monde, informés de la situation de pauvreté, de famine et de maladie dans laquelle se trouve une grande partie de la population humaine dans un moment historique, comme l'actuel, où l'on dispose des moyens suffisants tant dans les domaines politiques, économiques et scientifiques qui pourraient résoudre ces problèmes.

Ce manifeste a une vocation d'universalité et s'adresse à l'humanité entière, à chaque être humain qui habite cette planète afin qu'il prenne conscience de la terrible situation à laquelle sont confrontés des millions de personnes et d'une certaine façon agisse en conséquence pour mettre fin à cette situation. Pour ce faire la version originale en espagnol sera traduite en diverses langues, car notre intention est de faire entendre la voix de l'opinion publique jusqu'aux lieux où se prennent les décisions politiques et économiques concernant le monde.

Á QUI NOUS NOUS ADRESSONS:

Nous nous adressons à la classe politique gouvernante de nos pays, ainsi qu'aux plus hauts mandataires Des Organisations Internationales, telles que l'Organisation des Nations Unies, et aux Présidents et Gouvernements des pays les plus puissants, économiquement parlant, de la Terre.

NOUS LEUR MANIFESTONS :

1.- Que ce texte émane de la constatation de la situation extrême de besoin et de famine que souffre une grande partie de la population de la Terre et de l'injuste distribution des biens existants aujourd'hui dans le monde. Nous entendons que l'impartialité et l'harmonie dans le monde ont pour base la reconnaissance de la dignité intrinsèque et des droits égaux et inaliénables de tous les membres de la famille humaine, raison pour laquelle il est inadmissible qu'une grande partie de la population mondiale doive affronter une réalité si précaire, à un degré tel d'injustice et d'inégalité, à tant de famine, de pauvreté et de dénutrition.

2.- Que nous considérons que dite situation est de façon inhérente perverse et inadmissible ni moralement ni éthiquement, étant donné que tous les êtres humains naissent libres et égaux .De la même manière, nous n'oublions pas que tous les citoyens du monde ont ces droits dès leur naissance et non comme une promesse future dont la conquête dépend de la réalité politique, sociale et économique de leurs pays.

3.-Que nous défendons qu'il est absolument injuste, immoral et un crime humanitaire punissable devant les tribunaux internationaux et l'Histoire que, en plein XXI ème Siècle, existent des êtres humains qui souffrent de faim dans le monde et qui en meurent. Que c'est une circonstance aggravante de ce crime qu'existant les lois internationales suffisantes, ainsi que les moyens techniques, économiques et scientifiques pour corriger cette situation, ceux qui exercent le pouvoir dans le monde ne réalisent les actions nécessaires pour résoudre ce que les futures générations qualifieront d'authentique génocide dont seront coupables tous ceux qui tout en ayant les moyens pour résoudre ce problème ne les auront pas utilisés.

4.- Que nous considérons que cette situation injuste est contraire au Droit Naturel, aux Droits Humains et aux règles de l'éthique la plus élémentaire et nous pensons que le moment est venu que la voix de l'opinion publique exige de ses dirigeants la fin d'un tel état des choses.

5.- Que ce présent manifeste n'est pas un manifeste utopique; ni un manifeste politique, ni nous prétendons avec ceci l'instauration d'un nouvel ordre politique ou socio-économique mondial, ni aucun discrédit des réseaux entreprise, sanitaire et social du monde développé, sinon la justice la plus élémentaire envers les plus démunis.

POUR TOUTES CES RAISONS , NOUS EXIGEONS DE NOS DIRIGEANTS:

1.- L'adoption de mesures immédiates et urgentes pour mettre fin à la situation de famine, de maladie et dénutrition dans le Tiers-Monde. Nous considérons que de telles mesures ne constituent pas une utopie, sinon qu'elles sont parfaitement viables et possibles.

2.- Maintenir le compromis de remplir les Objectifs du Millénaire qui, établis par les Nations Unies en 2000, définissent les principes sur lesquels doit s'adapter la conduite des pays et du système économique international pour surmonter, avec comme horizon 2015, les injustices dont souffrent l'humanité.

3.- La réalisation d'actes solidaires systématiques envers les pays les plus démunis et que s'établisse un ordre logique et humain de priorités en politique économique, avec des projets intelligents qui créent richesse et emploi dans les pays affectés, facilitant un développement soutenable et un progrès qui les aide à consolider un réseau sanitaire, économique et social stable qui rende possible le retour à une situation de départ égalitaire.

4.- Que les mesures nécessaires soient prises afin que les pays riches destinent une part de leurs budgets à la création de richesse et d'entreprises et de sources de travail dans les pays affectés ; ainsi que l'adoption d'un accord international qui devrait se souscrire à la ONU et d'application obligatoire de la part des pays développés.

5.- l'implantation d'un code éthique qui contrôle la stratégie des entreprises multinationales, ainsi que l'élimination des paradis fiscaux et l'application de la taxe Tobin, ou une autre de semblable quand aux transactions commerciales internationales qui permette de créer un fonds de solidarité géré par les Nations Unies.

6.- Nous n'accepterons pas de simples déclarations de principes qui ne se traduisent en politiques concrètes. En définitive, NOUS FAISONS APPEL au sens de la générosité et de l'humanité de tous et fondamentalement de la classe politique internationale, économiquement puissante.

Depuis la Terre qui espère et croit fermement en la Solidarité qui puisse construire un monde meilleur et plus juste, le 30 janvier 2009.

LINKS

GALLEGO - CATALAN - HEBREO - JAPONÉS - ITALIANO

:::::
:::::

///239 - INT 027/090130 - Manifiesto Solidario
///Ilustración: Encarna y Jesús
///música: Imagine - Varios autores
///enlace: Blog de Cornelivs

216 - Winter Solstice

2008-12-17T00:00:00.008+01:00

let's celebrate the solstice

light wins the battle

darkness pulls out

the new year is announced

let's be pleased by winter solstice

with peace and solidarity

with the red colour of hope

thanks AiYiYi, my English corrector

207 - Aurelio the Clean

2008-11-27T17:17:00.019+01:00

+

+

After the war was over. After all dead men and cripples. Coming out from the hunger and misery, full of hate. The victor’s hatred.

A village lost in the mountains.

Aurelio.

Bad communications. From the nearest capital… first by train. The slow and jolting wood train. Then, by the local coach with such a pompous name. The Convenience. Finally, half an hour walking among tracks, shortcuts and paths that crossed forests and clearings.

Aurelio.

Few inhabitants left or came into the small village. In order to arrive there, a walking tour through the forest, which refreshing in summer allowed you to hide the hardness of the ascending forest track but it became sad and wet in winter short days.

Before arriving, the train wound the river of the poachers and it returned the water stolen below into steam cotton. Oaks and chestnut-trees were dressed up in autumn covering with their leaves other poachers’ traps. The coach drew wavy lines sewing the mountain, lines as the ones Mrs. Enriqueta ordered to draw on the slate cracked in its corners.

Aurelio.

Far away, while rickety boots were protesting by the footpath pebbles, smoke from dry firewood painted clouds in the greenish sky by the sparkle of high meadows. Semi-wild horses trotted emulating those that they would never see in the white sheet with its own light. Stolen kisses and shots in 36 millimetres of celluloid.

Aurelio. Imprecise age. Maybe 58. Maybe 68. Impossible to say.

Paquita the Lame, served the green wine, recently extracted and cloudy. Wine scratched to the hillsides. And a string of chorizos threaded by herself… and a loaf of bread made by her grandmother. Hard crust to sharpen knives and gnaw persistently. The occasional traveller… had tea. In the meantime he listened to what he was told about.

Aurelio lived with a complete family. A married couple and their four children, the grandparents and the disabled brother of Paquita the Lame, that everybody said he was mentally handicapped.

Aurelio and the nine of them didn’t form a ten.

The mountain stretched up from those humble houses. Looking up, towards the vulture kingdom, they knew everything necessary to organize their day.
The first snows of winter demanded the mending of the woodshed (Aurelio misspelled it the few times he talked)

Nobody knows how he came to the village. Not even his adoptive family could remember when he had entered their lives. Neither had he known.

The stable.

The stable was one of the most important places in the house. There, the nine family cows were kept. Amarela, Brown, Cinnamon, Africa, Greyish, Blonde, Aurora, Emerald and finally, Daisy. All of them, the nine, understand by their name and they didn’t need the goad, a spiked stick used for urging them. Urging those pretty cows with such evident names? Africa was named after a grandfather’s niece called America, fruit of the emigration. He was that way, he didn’t say that Daisy was named after an old girlfriend he had when he was serving in the Military Service in Melilla.

The stable was one of the most important places in the house. These nine creatures were kept for the sustenance of other nine godforsaken creatures. There it was milked. There the calves, which would suppose an extraordinary income in such reduced economy, were given birth. There the future chorizos and blood sausages were kept.

The stable was one of the most important places in the house. There, in the back corner, on the right, all the members of the family should leave their tributes. They didn’t know about the cities conveniences but, after all, they didn’t have to go outside under the inclemency of the weather in hard days.

The stable was one of the most important places in the house. Aurelio lived in that stable, at the back on the left; next to the pair of rosy pigs with a fixed deadline. Rosy pigs which didn’t know the purpose of those dry branches from selected bushes that should burn their skin soon.

Aurelio didn’t speak. He went out of the stable in the mornings and he sat down in front of the house on a granite stone bench facing the sun… the days that it wasn’t raining. Soon, the grandmother brought him a chipped bowl with fine slices of leftover bread soaked in full cream milk, without being even strained. He ate it calmly. He rested the bowl and the aluminium spoon on the stone bench and left. If it was raining, he sat down on another granite bench under the east balcony, where the water couldn’t reach.

Ragged boys and patched girls, with clean sun-dried clothes on the grass of the nearby river, were heading for the school. In the first floor, the chestnut wooden floor and big cracks allowed them to sigh the animal heating provided by another stable. They recited the seven times table, the Spanish rivers and the litanies of Our Lady. Aurelio knew it and he glanced shyly. When they went out of the school, they punctually, peeped out the large meadow. From there they could make out an ascending track on the other side of the valley. The coach was going to go past and they would be able to see the dust it rose, to hear a distant purring and if they were lucky, the sound of a loud horn. It was the same ritual every Thursday. Thursday of the Convenience.

The bell tolls. A person’s death toll. Six. A woman. Aurelio is supposed to hear it from some place. No. Aurelio doesn’t go into the church. Nobody remembers to have seen him there. Don Jacinto, so nit-picking, never dared to tell him anything. He, who never let anybody to move a hoe, a toothed shovel, a cart of oxen… in the day of the Lord; even if the harvest got lost by hail, storm or hurricane-force winds. He never told him anything.

It was said that Aurelio got lost in the beech forest, the vast beech wood in the northwest where he talked to strange deities. Nobody found him in the forest. Nor in any other place.

He didn’t appear at the granite bench until after lunchtime. He sat down and waited. There was always somebody who offered him a drag of black tobacco and sometimes a complete cigarette rolled with the remainders of cigarette ends finished off. He never thanked.

At sunset and after eating another bowl of milk with sliced bread that the grandmother offered him, he moved to the back of the stable having previously checked that all the members of the family had passed by the other corner, the one on the right back. Then he lay in his dry grass bed compressed by the pass of his history.

A 25 watts bulb lit his existence when it was switched on. A tiny window announced him of the sunrise.

None of the four children of his adoptive family talked to him. They only smiled at him. None of the village children talked to him. They only smiled at him. None of the children laughed at him, nor threw him a stone as they did with others. None of the village dogs barked at him (the dogs didn’t smell him). Not even the dogs of the hunters, who occasionally stopped in a nearby store-bar, smelled him. The Civil Guard didn’t question about him either. Everybody knew him. Later on, everybody realized they didn’t know him.

One day, when the grandmother took him the bowl of milk Aurelio was not there. She placed the bowl on the granite bench and went away to make some butter with the cream gathered from the cows’ milk, the pregnant cows during the previous days. She beat it and beat it. She washed it. And she wrapped it in a cloth. She would have enough for some days. Not many, since everybody liked it on a slice of bread with some sugar. And she would keep a little to fill some apples she would bake soon.

The milk was cold in the bowl. Some flies went around the rim of the chipped bowl looking at both sides of their precipice. A gang of children came back from school. They had been talked about the Moors and Don Rodrigo. And about Viriato. And about Bellido Dolfos. And about a brave Leader with an ermine cloak and a sword in his hands. And they were also said that Don Jacinto would wait for them in the afternoon to talk about Purgatory and Limbo (he had talked about Heaven and Hell the previous Thursday).

She commented with her daughter something about Aurelio. Both of them thought he would be in the beech wood, with its leaves now yellow reddish contrasting with the intense green of yews and hollies.

They found Aurelio on his straw bed, lain on his back, with his hands on his chest, his fingers intertwined with his thumbs up pointing at his eyes, eyes that gave off a special light. An incipient smile which could advance a great laughter.

There was no great surprise. Many people said he was already very old. Others, mercifully, said that to live the way he was living he had been lucky enough passing away like that, peacefully (or so they thought). Some others started questioning about his origin and his past, questions which remained unanswered.

There was some commotion in the house. After so many years sharing the stable, human and cows’ excretions, flies and smells, two daily bowls of milk… they wondered if Aurelio was a member of the family.

Yes. There was consensus. He was.

The two men of the house took his body to the best room they had and placed him on the bed which they had previously covered with some curtains.

The two women of the house undressed him and started to get him ready and make him look presentable for the neighbours to come and visit him. The surprise was great.

Naked, just as he came to the world, they observed his white skin, so white that it resembled the Guijarrón snows, the peak that presided over the village. And not only that. After so many years living in the stable, his body didn’t smell. It smelled of …nothing! The dogs didn’t smell him. They understood it now. On the other hand, his ragged clothes were absolutely clean. When they tried to comb him, his jet-black straight hair was, clean! There were no nits or lice as the children or they sometimes had. The same happened with his long beard, who cut it? They realized now it always had the same size.

Aurelio, on the bed, was separated by a double door with translucent pieces of glass from the house dining-room, where many neighbours were now having some food and chatting about the dead man. It was a simple conversation since all of them agreed they didn’t know anything about him.

The children from the village had gone up to the boundaries of the Guijarrón, from where the sea could be seen in clear days. And that day was a specially clear one.

Don Jacinto ordered the bells to be tolled with the toll for a man.

click photos

It might happen, and it happens that this story is based on real facts.

The locations could be in any mountain village of Cantabria, Asturias or Galicia.

It’s likely that some characters could be still alive.

///INT 025/081127 - Aurelio the Clean
///foto: 1/ A los pies de Cucayo - 2/ Subida a Tresviso
///foto: 3/4 Ventana y Tejado en Cucayo (Cantabria)
///música: Thomas Newman - Any other name (Cualquier otro nombre)
///Spanish Version -> Cristal Rasgado - Aurelio el limpio

182 - A glass fishing-boat

2008-07-29T00:00:00.000+02:00

*******

It is a minimal store, the kind of store nobody is interested in.

Apparently, the man had been working hard since many years ago.

He had the illusion of doing a glass fishing-boat… and he managed it. He invested all his time, and also his savings to design it. Many years of savings. Yes. It should be something special for the great project he had in mind.

The thing is that he managed it. He managed to have his glass fishing-boat.
That man had many contacts in Africa. Precisely a specialized technique had been developed there to mass-produce those fragile boats… but any of them made of glass, which was something unthinkable even in the world of dreams. To dream you need true references on which to support dreams. They, those of the continent, had many resources, but any of them a real one, or at least, one on which you can make a dream of that kind.

The man, whom I will call Nelson, for example, had contacts and I suppose that they were those who, with a complex framework of animistic synthesis and religious syncretism, managed that very important people from developed countries with resources to make dreams come true answered affirmatively to Nelson’s invitation, an invitation proposing a singular trip. It seems obvious that such a trip should be done on the amazing glass fishing-boat.

And Nelson’s wished day came. He had them all in the beach. The one from France, the one from Spain, the one from Great Britain, the one from Italy, the one from Germany… Thus, a list of important leaders who believe they rule men’s destinies.People without a decent name but easily recognizable by the mass media.
Recognizable, Nelson thought, but not knowable because of their disfigured souls.

Seated on the ground, without protesting, taking the trip as a game, thinking about the great amount of goldfish and corals they would be able to see, those men, also a woman, masters of all the things, were enjoying what it seemed a promising trip. It was obvious that all African magicians were exercising well their distant power since nobody objected anything… Never.

It was a singular trip. The transparent floor let them see the reality of that ocean. There were no goldfish or corals.

Corpses and more corpses were swimming under their feet. I prefer not to describe their exact condition. The details, I mean.

Well opened eyes were talking to a group of men who would be mentioned in History books in the future. Accusing eyes, with enough tears to salt the sea. Yes. I know I had written it before, that there are tears which salt the seas we know. It is a reality, I like to remind it.

The transparent roof of the fishing-boat, since it was submerged now, allowed them to see hands, hands moving freely indicating Utopian destinations. Bellies with their fruit withered. Feet trying to run on deserts of water. Water within water. Minds liquefied and vanished in the air of lost dreams.

They went around the coasts. The African, the European… the coasts. And more corpses. Dead men and women. Died corpses without an expiry date.

When the trip finished, Nelson said goodbye politely to them. He did not say anything to them. Nothing about the great effort he had made to offer them, with that trip, the gift of his life. He did not ask them for anything. He smiled to them once again.

They all went away to their important occupations. Some of them had to sign who knows what to regulate immigrants. To prevent them who knows what. To avoid something.
Others had a great meal agreed, nineteen dishes, they had been told, with the one from the United States, the one from Russia, the one from Japan… and that way the large list of those who…

They were all very busy. They were happy since apart from eating they would plant a little tree.
Nelson waved them goodbye, with his white palm of his black hand. He saw his black face reflected once more in his glass fishing-boat and he knew what he had to do.

Submerged with his glass fishing-boat, he turned into water to go in search of his people and get dissolved among them.

What could he tell them now?

182 - A glass fishing-boat - INT - 080729
photo: @444-071227 - Límites
music: Ismail Lo - Jammmu Africa - Tajabone

translated bt AiYiYi, my friend

Spanish version here

181 - Red and blue fishing boats

2008-07-15T00:00:00.001+02:00

*****************

boated in red fishing boats
red small rowboats
red hopetightened in brotherly heat
everything already lost

is there anything else to lose?

they know many opened arms are waiting for them
white arms without a colour
or an invisible colour
fighting against the black shades
of agreements and ignominious signatures

they bring bellies full of future
what can they lose
if they had lost everything there?

salty tears to salt the sea

their fishing boats and small rowboats sail upon a sad sky
which weeps acid rain

free, free, free

now
they are birds that come to the promised land
where there is a nest for each one
where the food is not scarce

below
the vultures continue their feast.

181 - Red and blue fishing boats - INT - 080715
photos: 444-FB-080614-6519/6532 - Cayuco azul y Cayuco rojo
music: Herbaliser - Moonsequence

translated by AiYiYi, my friend

spanish version here

178 - The girl of the Ariège

2008-07-11T17:17:00.001+02:00

The black little girl? Should I say the coloured one? It was warm. Quite warm. Tarascón, in the south of France, in the foothills of the Pyrenees. A cup of black coffee with ice on the table. I play with the camera. We glanced at each other. Accomplice glances.

She plays to hide her glance wishing to be photographed. I play to break my tradition of not taking photographs to people. Yes, I find it hard to steal them a piece of their mortal souls… and be stolen mine.

She is alone. Or so it seems. Maybe that one, the one who is at about twelve meters leaning indolently against a wall could be her elder brother… or is he her father? He is watching the scene. He does not care. Maybe he is a free spirit.
There are only two shots. Two winks. Two small thefts… which she wishes.
Not even a word. It would be impossible and unnecessary. We would not communicate with any sound, just with glances as we were doing.

Might I do it? I have done it. Now I am thinking if perhaps I might do it. Can an adult have pure and accomplice looks with a little girl? Could she be accused of being a provocative girl? And what about him? Me. A children’s perverted corrupter?

There will come the day when we won’t be able to caress our own children? Will we be so rotten that we will be always suspicious? I do not know if she is looking at me but I would like to be looking at that little black girl that way. Should I say the coloured girl? I did not know people had colours.

So much politically correct language is making my thought stupid, or at least, slightly more than it could be.

Colours. How many colours exist? I think there is only one colour in men without pixelating. The invisible one, which you can only reach with knowledge. The rest, vain appearances that vanish with the darkness while invisibility continues.

The cold waters of the Pyrenees, that flow down the Ariège river, wish to refresh the environment. A lady is riding an old bicycle, as old as herself. A Renault 8 is watching amused what is happening. It is not badly preserved in spite of its age. A gang of teenagers, all of them with their mobile phones, are waiting the arrival of someone else. A few ducks, possibly red-crested pochards are testing landings in the waters of the Ariége while a couple is taking photographs of themselves with the castle on the background. The little black girl is still seated. She seems to ask me for a longer photographic session. I say to her without any words that two photographs are enough.

Later, in another place of the town, while I am walking I come across her again. Our glances are those of old friends. I tell her good bye. I must go…climb a peak. She replies “take me with you”. Certainly, I answer. I will take you in my shirt pocket, very high so that you can see better, from the peak, a part of France, a part of Spain and squeezing your eyes the whole of Africa.

She smiles.

*

178 - The girl of the Ariège - INT - 080711
photo: 080620 - La niña del Ariège
music: Driss el Maloumi - Enfance

* Coloured: this word can be regarded as offensive. I know.

Thanks AiYiYi for your translation

172 - Tied

2008-05-21T00:00:00.000+02:00

Beautiful bird you wanted to be
tied to the ground
without flying

as your sisters
trapped by the water
of mirror glass

both of them with the air
as consolation.

Tied - INT - 080521
photos: Strelitzia / aquatic plants

Botanic Garden - La Orotava (Tenerife)

-172-

Absence

2008-04-24T11:11:00.006+02:00

>·<

when I am not here

anymore

when I've fled from here

I'll stay hidden

among a thousand million
of pages

...

my robins will keep singing

:::Post 158 INT 020/080424 - Absence
:::foto: 080209/C5123 - Miles de páginas

Under the ground...

2008-03-15T11:11:00.004+01:00

Shyly, the caresses
in broad daylight
shyly
they did not mind

under the ground...

a tumultuous love started
and it tied
and untied
no, ... they did not mind

blind moles were telling it.

text: under the ground 080129
photo: 080114-hidden love in Las Teresitas (TF)
músic: Creping shadows - Bleach

*
*
*

Translated by AiYiYi

Spanish version

137 - Waters flowing up

2008-03-09T11:11:00.009+01:00

Waters flowing down
looking for the promised sea

arriving
to their ría delighted
they blend together

sweet and salty
bitter and sharp

they are told by…

black trees up there
fire and hell
smoke and blackness

and black below
desolation and death
tied with faint threads
of abject poverty full

faint?
never, they say
more, they say
we shout

now…

still astonished
dropping joy tears
they go back to their origins
upstream

they have to tell them

about the beauty of their ría
to the reflected clouds
to the trees in the riverside

and to the ones who have all senses

*
Dedicada al hombre que paseaba por el Lérez
“es bueno regresar a los orígenes”

corrected by AiYiYi
Spanish version

///Post 137 INT 0018/080309 - Waters flowing up
///photo: Río Lérez bridge (Pontevedra)
///music: El Moldava - Smetana

Naked

2008-02-19T11:11:00.000+01:00

naked the soul ...
now visible

hidden...
the red colour of hope

already known

just itself...
stay alone torn in shreds

text: Naked - INT - 080219

photo: Naked eucaliptus

music: Lisa Gerrard - The mirror pool - Largo

corrected by AiYiYi

Spanish Version

Opdlr's moons

2008-02-05T11:53:00.002+01:00

I remember

I remember vaguely having travelled

inside myself

I can’t remember having arrived,

been, gone out or entered
but I remember having travelled

I can’t remember what I found

not even if I have found myself

will I have found myself?

but I remember having travelled

maybe the trip is the memory

or the memory the remembered thing

will I have travelled? – will it be a dreamed trip?

what kind of worlds will I have imagined?

that were they the Opdlr moons?

there was no space – there was no time

I want to believe – I want to believe – I want to believe

there was a trip – there is a memory – though it is only

to remember the dream.

text: Viaje a OPDLR

photos: @499-071205- slide - mirrors

music: Paul Avgerinos - Grace of the Witch

thanks AiYiYi for your translation

The visit

2008-01-25T11:11:00.006+01:00

The passage of time had burdened them with years. Years, by a strange mechanism, push more quickly as time advances.

Now, almost elderly, they only had each other and it seemed they did not need anything else.

They had had three children who had filled them with happiness, at least for a long time, they believed to remember.

Now they had a visit.

Eduardo seemed to be the most normal one. He had left the house quite soon. He had married a stewardess. They travelled a lot. They did not know where he was living. They occasionally received a postcard with a strange address which they did not understand. They believed to remember their son had studied something of a very high level. They did not live in Spain. They came quite recently, didn’t they? They said to themselves. Of course. And this “of course” was slightly obvious.

The visit was punctual. It had appeared, without a previous warning, a spring morning. Maybe it was that Thursday when the people from the Social Assistance brought us the little device with the button to press in case something happens to us, they said. But the important thing is that it was punctual.

Magdalena, their daughter, the one in the middle of the three children, had also studied. She studied something related to Arts. They remembered this clearly since they always had their house full of extravagant visits and, what mattered the most, the whole house was always untidy and full of painting cans and strange pictures.

Magdalena, did not give any signs of life. It was said she was abroad. People who think badly said she was working in a cabaret and there were some others who thought even worse.

Magdalena sent a check to the bank very now and then. But they did not realize it.

They were not interested in television since a long time ago. They said it was loaded by the demon. A curious expression, anyone else would say the devil. But they had the opinion that the demon walks freely. If they turned on the radio was, particularly, to be accompanied by the background noise. They were not interested in news either. Some adverts attracted their attention if they had catchy music.

But they had got used to the morning visit. They had got on well with one another. So much that shortly before it arrived they turned off the radio. They did not want interferences.

Anselmo was the younger child. They were greatly upset when he told them he was a homosexual. As years went on their grief had been mitigated. The loss of their memory had helped them a lot. When he arrived home with his new male couple, they received him nicely and congratulated him for having so many friends.

Anselmo visited them more often. He tried to take care of them. He did not do it well, he did not have the time. The nail-sculpturing salon which he ran took him much time.

But the visit was punctual. Constant. And it was the joy of this nice elderly couple. It did not stay for a long time, but the time it stayed…

It was the fresh air in the morning.

They shared their food. And they played to take it out one another. It was a perfect loving triangle.

When the autumn was about to finish, the days became more unpleasant. And winter was near.

The visit was called Ramón. I had not told you before, had I?
At present, the nice elderly couple, in their more lucid moments started to be afraid about Ramón, what it could happen if Ramón did not come back anymore.

They were afraid that Ramón, the sparrow, the little sparrow could not survive the harsh winter that it was supposed to come.

And if they had had the television set connected, the news would have confirmed them that the hardest winter of the last 12 years was coming.

text: The visit - 071019 - OVNM
photo: @444-070609-Granada-1810 Ramón el gorrión
music: Josephine Foster - Good news

*
*
*
English version by AiYiYi
Spanish version here

2008

2008-01-01T00:01:00.000+01:00

My best wishes

for all that

is beginning today

(4x4) + 2+ (2x5) = (2008-1980)

2007-12-28T00:01:00.000+01:00

Hola, ya has llegado. Bienvenido

dentro del campo o.v.n.m.
se estaban produciendo
graves perturbaciones
y se pudo notar como acga trataba de coordinar con Ñoco Le bolo
había algunas interferencias notables

... pie izquierdo a pie derecho: recibido, avanza un paso al frente.
corto y cambio
... pie derecho a pie izquierdo: recibido. hecho.
ahora avanza tú un paso también al frente
corto y cambio
... pie izquierdo a pie derecho: recibido. hecho. avanza un paso al frente.
corto y cambio
... pie derecho a pie izquierdo: recibido. hecho.
ahora avanza tú un paso también al frente
corto y cambio
... pie izquierdo a pie derecho: recibido. hecho avanza un paso al frente.
corto y cambio
... pie derecho a pie izquierdo: recibido. hecho.
ahora avanza tú un paso también al frente
corto y cambio
... pie izquierdo a pie derecho: recibido, avanza un paso al frente.
corto y cambio
... pie derecho a pie izquierdo: recibido. hecho.
ahora avanza tú un paso también al frente corto y cambio
...pie izquierdo a pie derecho: recibido. hecho. avanza un paso al frente.
corto y cambio. Ah! párate ahí
...pie derecho a pie izquierdo: recibido. hecho. estoy parado
ahora avanza tú un paso también al frente corto y cambio
... pie izquierdo a pie derecho: recibido. hecho. ya estamos juntos
...pie derecho a pie izquierdo: ¿que son esas gotas que vienen de arriba?
corto y cambio
pie izquierdo a pie derecho: ni idea, a mí también me están cayendo

¿QUIERES SABER EL FINAL DE LA HISTORIA?
pincha aquí

Emotions

2007-12-24T11:11:00.003+01:00

***

all his emotions safely kept

he had them well safe

safe and well kept

he never knew the reason

but his emotions escaped

and other new ones filtered in

through the cracks of his soul

text: Emotions - INT - 071214
photo: @444-071127-cesta de las emociones-3697
músic: Neil Young - Helpless (live)

*
*
*

Corrected by AiYiYi

Spanish version

One hundred thousand and sixteen

2007-12-19T11:11:00.015+01:00

:::::::

one hundred thousand daggers of hard ice
crossed my mind
crossed my heart
crossed…
of ice
the sixteenth

*
one hundred thousand of cold ice daggers
one hundred thousand

anticipating the beginning of a long winter
one hundred thousand

*
one hundred thousand dead springs
icy summers
vain autumns…
winter.

*
the sixteenth

*
damned

*
one hundred thousand daggers of hard ice
cruel and cold
opposing the thaw

*
and she…

she?

...
resisting the ice

:::

to casj

my queen of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow:::::
+
+

++INT 011/071216 - One hundred thousand and sixteen (WAST 070809)
++foto: 071201 - Allí estaba
++música: Ligeti Trio Cor violon piano - I. Andantino con tenereza
++Spanish version: Cien Mil Dieciséis (Cristal Rasgado)

Waiting

2007-11-23T09:58:00.000+01:00

Waiting

Nothing to say

33 - Today we created the World

2007-09-29T22:00:00.006+02:00

Today we created the World.

Today we separated Light from darkness
and we invented the colours.

We filled the airs with nice winds
and nacarat clouds. Today.

And we did fresh waters with mythological beings
and the salty ones with royal mermaids disguished as corals.

Today we gave the frozen lands, and the burning ones,
watered by the rain of happiness.

And we populated it with weird species of useless beauty
found yesterday.

Today we created the leaves, the branches, the trunks…
the forest to shelter ourselves of the hopelessness.

Today we created laughter and weeping.
weeping to fertilize the soil,
laughter to dry weeping. Today.

Today we created the past and memory.
And we made History.

And Today we also created the future
to know where we come from.

And Today goes on.
Today always exists in every day.

Today is a day of joy.

Every Today involves a present.

Right now, in a few minutes…
the world is beginning.

*
To c.a.s.j.
My Queen of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Thanks AiYiYi for your translation

***

text: 33 - Today we created the World - INT - 070927

photo: @444-FB-061201-Amanece sobre el Real

music: Thomas Otten

028

Princess Chen Blue Hat

2007-09-24T08:56:00.000+02:00

There she was, waiting for me with a big poster saying YES.

I thought it was for me. So, I though she was waiting for me. And so she was.

She was living under a purple hat. The first thing she told me was that she didn’t like that colour, although she had another one. The other, the one to be worn, apart from the hat where she was living in.

As I am a person of quick solutions, I gave her two new hats. One to be worn on, blue coloured, and the other one to live under it. Blue coloured too.
Of course, she said to me it was the colour she liked. What could I do!

Now, under her new blue hat and with her new blue hat, she was happy. Very happy since after the change, children from all foreign countries, and some from her own country, were going to meet so that she would teach them how to talk since they came without the words on them. The truth was that there were a lot of boys and girls who didn’t know how to speak. Putting the words inside a person is a job that requires a lot of patience.

To me, as I was already her friend, she also put me some new words that I didn’t know.

By the way, all the words are free in the World of the words. It is only necessary to make a big effort and be going to look for them. If somebody wants to collect words I can assure them that it is a nice collection. And it has no limits, one is never going to finish the collection. And the most curious thing, one can collect words that they don’t understand. Well, and there is where she has an important part. She makes the children to understand words that are free everywhere.

She became famous, not only for living under a blue hat and wearing a blue hat but because she taught so well to so many children from all foreign countries, and some her own country, that one day, he was the president of the World disguised as I and he nominated her as Princess. Not any princess, the Princess Chen. Not a simple princess Chen. Princess Chen Blue Hat, already well-known as PCBH.

And now… I would like to find free words to show them to PCBH. But there are some problems. There are too many free words and I don’t know which ones to choose or even in what order to teach them.

Right, if she is patient, then I will be too.

/acga 070924/

Princess Lesi Red Shoes

2007-09-20T08:55:00.000+02:00

I found her hidden in a story, searching carefully among the ordered letters of the Wizard of Oz. All the characters were already making their way towards…where?.

The princess was there, hidden, waiting for her discoverer. At first, I could only find her red shoes. After that, she told me hesitatingly, surrounded by “hi – hi – his”, that she came from the House of Happiness. She was the dream of one day.

She was growing on her shoes, little by little. First, tiny feet. Well, I have had to imagine them. And this way was how I got to know her little by little. She does not have a face yet. I do not know if some day she will have it. Maybe when mine has vanished in nothing. She is a pure spirit of the House of Happiness. She is only a tenuous shade with a red, red tunic like her shining patent leather shoes.

My Princess Lesi Red Shoes moves in the east of my universe and every day, as the Rising Sun, she appears in the sky and extinguishes all the stars. And if she does not appear, because she is busy inside the story, I will look at the stars and try to guess in which one she shelters from the warm and humid days or from cold dry ones which shrink her spirit. And when she comes, she crosses the universe from east to west and she leaves me a few words without a sound. The spirits do not need sounds.

She comes and goes several times, as a breeze, as the music, with the music. Snowflakes are dancing. Old Isao accompanies me on his “sintes”. Tomita can manage everything, she can also cope with Debussy. She is coming. She is here. Just her. Oh, one day she spoke to me about cinema. I did not know that Princesses pure spirits knew about it. You see. My Princess Lesi Red Shoes is like that.

I can see she has left the story and she is living among us now.

/acga 070626/

敲天堂的门 - And I knocked at the heaven's doors

2007-03-26T11:11:00.002+02:00

Y llamé a las puertas del cielo

Chinese version

*****

Thanks a lot, Princess Lesi Red Shoes
Translated by Princess Lesi Red Shoes

敲天堂的门
March 23st 2007

我在一个看起来像南方的，独特的北方城市附近的小村庄中。当我正要给一朵简单但很美丽的小花的花萼照相时，一个闪亮的火花分散了我的注意力。我移开相机，仔细的查看了镜头，它是干净的。
我抬头看了看太阳，和平日没有异常。我再次尝试用镜头捕捉花萼的神奇时刻，又一次，我感受到了那个火花。我放下我的照相机，抬头看了看太阳。什么都没有…
我又一次拿起相机，眼角处我感觉到了明亮的闪光。我转过头，看到花丛边两米高的地方飞舞着火花一样的东西。我的脸色变得苍白。
我不相信上帝。我没有信仰，或者说几乎没有信仰。如果说我曾相信过什么，我会说那是天使，或是一个女天使，因为我不知道如何区分他们的属性。
我清楚的感觉到她或他带着迷人的微笑，嘴唇几乎没有动的对我说：去找寻，你会有所收获。对！那正是我所想的，去找寻，你会有所收获。
我一时无语，这不可能发生在我身上。我要去哪？我要找什么？我会找到什么？那是谁？我要对他说什么以确认它的存在吗？
那天我什么都没有做。我花了一整天的时间思考到底在我身上发生了什么。我，一个怀疑论者，一个顽固的不可知论者。
我敲了。是的，我敲了。我敲了天堂的门。我知道天堂并不存在，然而，人间的地狱闪烁着天堂的瞬间。
门开了，她站在那里带着迷人的微笑，再次对我说：去找寻，你会有所收获。我眼前一片模糊，霎时，我看到了我自己在月球上，或者是火星，或是什么之类的星球上。
第二天早上，我出发前往来左洛特，我不知道为什么我要去那里。我一到那儿，嗅着每一块火山岩的气味，沿着我所不知的踪迹走着。我走进了地壳中，我在热腾腾的岩浆中沐浴，直到热气在我皮肤的毛孔中消失…
我带着一种强烈的愉悦感回来，其他什么都没有。
我再一次敲了天堂的门。其实并没有必要敲门，他就在门口等我。他又对我说：去找寻，你会有所收获。再
一次，我的视线模糊了。这一次我光着身子在海底。很多和我不太一样的人在我身边。
第二天早上，再一次没有原因的我飞向腾巴，一个日本的小岛。在那一列娇小的女人等着我，没有原因的他们带我来到一处海湾。我们潜入深水，他们叫我如何用肺潜水，我学的很快。
他们都是专家，天生知道如何从海底找到最好的珍珠。他们告诉我，有一天死神会找到他们。他们一直很快乐，总是带着微笑。我和他们用我所知道的最好的方式交流。
在我知道了所有我该知道的事后，我和他们道别。我要去搜寻没有人搜寻过的地方。
我敲了天堂的门。这一次没有人应答。一张银色的海报上写着：北方-岛屿-寒冷-之下。
我完全不知道这是什么意思。只有北方是一个提示。
我决定跟随命运。我来到了一条路上，拦下了我看到的第一辆车。它是向北开的。几天过去了，奇怪的是所有我拦的车都是向北开的。就这样我到达了海边，对面，我可以看到一座小岛。
之后我才知道那不过是一个30平方公里大的小岛。
我注意到了沙滩有一摊冰。很明显，我认为我到了北海。终于，这符合了天堂之门上的指示。
我还记得我的日本朋友，我懂了，我跑进了水中。我在这奇怪的水晶版的水域中不知疲倦的潜游着。只有我一个人。没有金鱼，没有珊瑚礁，只有白色的细沙。
不知道多长时间后，我终于可以分辨清楚了。有一道微弱的亮光。或许就是我再给那花萼照相时所看到的。
我深深的感激我的日本老师教给我的用肺潜水的技艺。
我就在那里，无力的忍受着这世界的时间，看着，看着…
最美丽的珍珠是不可想象的。我该如何想想那寒冷的水域中最美的珍珠？
我失去了时间的概念，一心只想着那珍珠。
那颗珍珠从此改变了我的生活。世界的颜色改变了。我的花朵变得更美了，山…更高了，音乐…更悦耳了，食物…更美味乐…一切都变得更加美好了。
我慢慢的死去。我每天都潜下水去看那珍珠。我的珍珠。我从没想过把它拿走，那是它的地方。
渐渐的，我片海域游满了金鱼，海底长出了珊瑚礁。海水变得温暖了。我在也不需要上浮以获得空气。我皮肤可以在海底呼吸。我只需要看着我的珍珠，知道它在那里，就足够了。
一天，不知道为什么，海水的颜色变深了，变得很黑。只是突然发生的，我无法知道原因…只看到结果。珊瑚礁消失了，金鱼也消失了。我无法再忍受这地狱般的地方，我的氧气不足了。如果我再潜下水去试图寻找原因，我提前死去。我慢慢的死去。
我记得我已经几乎要死了。我记得我曾拥有过世上最美的珍珠。现在，为了修复这记忆，我看这幅《带珍珠耳环的女孩》，听这丽莎的《鲸鱼骑士》的音乐，慢慢的死去。
***
献给我的珍珠
***

是的，我最终还是给那花萼拍了照。
我想感谢我的朋友AiYiYi对我文章的校对，这是我第一次用英语写作。大家都知道我的英语不好，和其他许多原因一起，这是我无法和英国女王结婚。

texto: Y llamé a las puertas del cielo - WAST / OVNM / INT 070321

fotografía: @444-FB-Estambres de Feijoa 2120-R

música: Porcupine Tree - Lullaby

*
*
*

P.D. Dedicado a La Perla
Sí, la foto del cáliz la hice.

Puedes encontrar esta historia traducida al:
inglés, gallego, francés, chino y árabe aquí
¡Es un capricho!

And I knocked at the heaven's doors - English

2007-03-25T11:11:00.002+02:00

I was in a little village, near the unique northern city that looks south, trying to take a photo to the calyx of a little and simple, but beautiful flower, when a luminous sparkle distracted my attention. I moved the camera away from my face...and I looked carefully at its lens. It was clean.

I looked at the Sun, and I didn‘t notice anything different to another day. I renewed the attempt; to capture a magic moment in that calyx, and I perceived a sparkle again, this time a little more noticeable I put my camera down and I looked at the Sun. Nothing, there was nothing.

When I tried to take the camera again, something I couldn’t do, I felt a certain luminosity out of the corner of my eye. I turned around my head and the sparkle was there, flying over the flower clumps two meters high. My face turned pale.

I’m not a believer. I believe in nothing... or nearly nothing. If I had believed in something I would have said that it was an angel, or a female angel, since I didn't perceive differentiating attributes.

I clearly felt what he or she said to me, with a charming smile, without noticing any movement in his or her thin lips, go, search and you’ll find something. Yeah! that was what I thought to understand, go, search and you’ll find something.

I was speechless. That could not be happening to me. Where did I have to go to? What did I have to look for? What was I going to find? Furthermore, Who was that being? Should I have to give him a nature letter and to confirm his existence?

And I could not do any more that day. Really, I could. I spent the whole day thinking about what it had happened to me. To me. A sceptic, a recalcitrant agnostic.

I knocked. Yeah, I knocked. I knocked at the heaven’s doors, knowing that heaven doesn't exist, as much, hell here in the earth sprinkled by paradise moments.

And a door opened. There, with his or her charming smile, there he or she was. He or she repeated to me, go, search and you’ll find something. And I had a vague vision. I saw myself, for a moment, on the Moon, or Mars, maybe something like this.

The following morning I set off for Lanzarote, I don't know why, and once there, I smelt all and each one of the stones of volcanic lava, following a trace of I don't know what. I entered inside the earth; I took a bath in the heat of the volcano until vanishing through the pores of my skin...

I came back with the strange feeling that that experience was gratifying. Nothing else.

I knocked again at the heaven’s doors. It was not necessary to knock, he/she was waiting for me at the doors. He/she repeated me, go, search and you will find. And a vague vision again. I was under the sea, nude. I was accompanied by a lot of people very different to me.

And the following morning, without knowing the reason, I was flying to Toba, a little island of Japan, where a cortege of tiny women were waiting for me without knowing why when I arrived and they took me to a bay. We dived deep into the waters where they taught me, the technique of diving free lung and quickly I learned.

They were experts, they had been born extracting the best pearls in the marine bed, and they told me that Death would find them there some day. They were happy and they smiled the whole time. I corresponded them the best way I knew.

They said good bye to me since I already knew everything that I had to know, and I should search where nobody else would have searched before.

I knocked at the heaven’s doors. This time nobody was to receive me. A silver poster said: North - Island - Very Cold - Below.

It didn't make any sense for me. Only North was an indication.

I decided to leave it to the destiny. I set off for the road and I stopped the first car. It went in north direction. And days passed, and for a strange chance, all the cars that I stopped went in north direction. And this way I arrived to a coast that it had a small island opposite.
Later I knew that it was only a little more than 30 square kilometres.

I noticed a frozen water in the beach. Obviously, I thought, I am in the North Sea, the water cannot be another way. However, the signs of the heaven's doors began to have coherence.

I remembered my Japanese friends, I got undressed and I rushed to the water. I dove tirelessly in strangely crystalline waters. I was alone. Any of those goldfish. Any coral reefs, absolutely nothing. Just white and fine sand.

I don't know how much time it passed but at the end I distinguished it clearly. A gleam. Maybe the same one that I had noticed when I was taking the photograph to that calyx.
I deeply thanked my Japanese teachers the art of diving free lung.
There I was, effortlessly tolerating all the time of the world, watching...

The most beautiful pearl that can ever be imagined.
How to imagine such a pearl in those cold waters?

I lost the notion of time. I only had eyes for that pearl.

The vision of the pearl changed my life. The world changed colour. My flowers became more beautiful, the mountains... higher, the music... more harmonious, and every day food... more delicious... Everything was an enjoyment for the senses.

I died slowly. Day by day I went down to see the pearl. My pearl. I never thought of taking it out from there. That was its place.

Little by little, the sea filled with goldfish. The coral arose. The waters became warmer. I did not need to ascend any longer to take air. My skin was in charge of breathing for me. I only needed to watch it. To know that it was there. It was enough.

One day, without knowing the reason, the water became dark, very dark. It happened suddenly. I could never know the causes... only the effects. There were not corals and goldfish any longer I could no longer tolerate inside that hell, the oxygen was insufficient to me. If I tried to go down to look for a cause, I would bring my death forward. And I died slowly.

Already almost dead, I remember. I remember that once I had, without having it, the most beautiful pearl in the world. Right now, to fix the memory, I look at Vermeer’s painting, ‘Girl with a pearl earring’, and I accompany the vision with Lisa Gerrad’s music, exactly, ‘Whale Riders’, while I die slowly.

*
***

*
P.D. Dedicated to the pearl, my Pearl
Yeah, I managed to take the picture of the calyx

I want to thank my friend AiYiYi the correction of this text, my first article in this language, since it is public and notorious my not good English one that has prevented me, among other things, to marry the queen of England.

texto: Y llamé a las puertas del cielo - WAST / OVNM / INT 070321

fotografía: @444-FB-Estambres de Feijoa 2120-R

música: Porcupine Tree - Lullaby

*
*
*

P.D. Dedicado a La Perla
Sí, la foto del cáliz la hice.

Puedes encontrar esta historia traducida al:
inglés, gallego, francés, chino y árabe aquí
¡Es un capricho!

وطرقت على أبواب الجنة - And I knocked at the heaven's doors

2007-03-24T11:11:00.003+01:00

Y llamé a las puertas del cielo

Arabic version by AMA, thanks my friend
– و طَرَقْتُ على أبواب الْجنة
21 من مارس 2007

كُنْتُ في قريةٍ صغيرة ، قرب المدينة الشّماليّة الفريدة الّتي تبدو جنوبيّةً ، أحاول أن أخذ صورة لكأس الزهرة الصغيرة البسيطة ، لكن الزهرة جميلة ، عندما اللّمعان المضيء صرف انتباهي. حركت الكاميرا بعيدا عن وجهي...و نظرت بعناية في عدسته ، كان نظيفًا.

نَظرْتُ إلى الشّمس ، ولم ألاحظ أي شيئ مختلف في ذلك اليوم. جدّدت المحاولة؛ لألتقط الحظة الساحرة في تلك الكأس ، و أدركت لمعانًا مَرَّة أخرى ‏، هذه المرة أقل بكثير من ملاحظة وضعت كاميراتي و نظرت إلى الشّمس. لا شيئ ، كان هناك لا شيئ .

عندما حاولت أن أخذ الكاميرا مرة أخرى ، شيئ ما لم يكن من الممكن أن أفعله ، شعرت بإضاءة محددة من ركن عيني. التفت حولي رأسي و كان اللّمعان هناك ، كتلا محلقة فوق الزهرة ارتفاعها مترين. أصبح وجهي شاحبًا.

أنا لست مؤمنًا. أنا لا أؤمن في شيئ... أو تقريبًا لا شيئ. إذا اعتقدت في شيئ ما كان يمكن أن أقول أنّه كان ملاك ، أو ملاك أنثويّ ، حيث أنني لم أدرك أي تفرقة للصفات.

شعرت بوضوح ماذا هو قال أو هي قالت لي ، بابتسامة جذّابة ، بدون ملاحظة أيّ حركة في شفاه الرّفيع أو شفاهها الرفيع ، اذهب ، ابحث و ستجد شيئ ما. نعم! اعتقد ذلك كان لأفهمه ، اذهب ، ابحث و ستجد شيئ ما.

كُنْتُ صَامٍتاً. ذلك لم يكن أن يحدث لي. إلى أين يجب عليّ أن أذهب ؟ ماذا يتعين علي أن ابحث عنه ؟ ما الذي كان يجب عليّ لأجده ؟ بالإضافة إلى ذلك ، من ذلك الكائن ؟ هل يجب عليّ أن اتحدث إليه و أن أؤكّد وجوده ؟

و لم استطع أن أعمل ذلك اليوم. فعلا ً، لم استطع. قضيت اليوم بالكامل أفكّر فيما قد حدث لي. المتشكّك ، المعاند الملحد .

قرعت. نعم ، قرعت. قرعت على أبواب الجنّة، معرفتي أن الجنّة غير موجودة ، إلى نفس المدًى ، الجحيم هنا في الأرض المرشوشة بلحظات الفردوس.

و انفتح الباب. هناك ، بابتسامته أو بابتسامتها الجذّابة ، هناك هو كان أو هي كانت. هو كرّر أو هي كرّرت لي، اذهب ، ابحث وستجد شيئ ما. وكان لديّ رؤية غامضة. شاهدت نفسي للحظة على القمر أو المرّيخ ، ربّما شيئ ما مثل هذا.

في صباح اليوم التّالي رحلت إلى جزيرة لانزاروت ، لا أعرف لماذا ، ومرة هناك ، صهرت الكل وكل واحد من حجارة الحمم البركانيه ، وعقب أثر لأنني لا اعرف ماذا. دخلت داخل الأرض ؛ اخذت حماماً في حرارة البركان حتى إختفاء مسامات جلدي...

عدت مع شعور غريب أن تجربة مجزيه. ليس إلا.

طرقت مرة اخرى على أبواب الجنة. كان ليس من الضروري أن أطرق ، هو كان ينتظرني / هي كانت تنتظرني في الأبواب. هو كرر / هي كررت لي ، اذهب ، ابحث وستجد ، وبرؤية غامضة مرة أخرى. كنت تحت البحر ، عار. كنت برفقة الكثير من الناس مختلفون جدا إلي.

وفي صباح اليوم التالي ، بدون معرفة السبب ، كنت منطلقا إلى طوبا ، جزيرة ضغيرة من اليابان ، حيث كان موكب نساء صغيرات ينتظرني ، بدون المعرفة لماذا عندما وصلت أخذوني إلى بحيرة. غطسنا بعمق في المياه حيث علّمونني ، طريقة الغوص رئة حرّة ، و بسرعة تعلّمت.

كانوا خبراء ، هم ولدوا يستخرجون أفضل اللآلئ من الحوض البحريّ ، و أخبروني أن الموت سيجدهم هناك يومًا ما. كانوا سعداء و مبتسمون طوال الوقت. ماثلتهم أفضل طريقة الّتي عرفتها.

قالوا وداعا لي بعد ذلك عرفت كل شيئ الّذي يجب أن أعرفه ، و ينبغي أن أبحث حيث لا أحد آخر بحث من قبل.

قرعت على أبواب الجنة. هذه المرة لا أحد يستجيبني. لائحة فضّيّة تقول : الشّمال - جزيرة - باردة جدًّا - إلى أسفل.
لم يعن أيّ شيء لي . كان الشّمال فقط إشارةً .

قرّرت تركه إلى القدر. رحلت إلى الطّريق و أوقفت السّيّارة الأولى. ذهبت في الاتّجاه الشّماليّ. و مرّت الأيّام ، و لصدفة غريبة ، كلّ السّيّارات الّتي أوقفتها ذهبت في الاتّجاه الشّماليّ. و بهذه الطّريقة وصلت إلى ساحل كان لديه عكس جزيرة صغيرة. فيما بعد عرفت أنّه كان أقل بكثير من 30 كيلومتر مربّع فقط .

لاحظت ماءً متجمّدًا في الشّاطئ. من الواضح ، اعتقدت أنني في البحر الشّماليّ ، لا يمكن أن يكون الماء الطريق في الآخر. مع ذلك ، علامات أبواب الجنّة بدأت في التّرابط .

تذكّرت أصدقائي اليابانيّين ، خلعت ملابسي و أسرعت إلى الماء . غصت بلا تعب في المياه البلّوريّة الغريبة. كنت وحيدًا . أيّ من هؤلاء سمكة ذهبيّة . أيّ شعاب مرجانيّة، تمامًا لا شيئ . الرّمل الدّقيق و الأبيض فقط .

لا أعرف كمّ من الوقت قضيته لكنّ في النّهاية ميّزته بوضوح. الومضة. ربّما هي نفس الومضة التي لاحظتها عندما كنت آخذ الصّورة لتلك كأس الزهرة .

شكرت مدرّسيّ اليابانيّين بشدّة فنّ الغوص رئة حرّة .

هناك كنت، بدون مجهود يجيز باستمرار للعالم، أشاهد ...

أجمل لؤلؤة الّتي لا يمكن أن تُتَخَيَّلها أبدًا ..
كيف لتتَخَيَّل مثل هذه اللّؤلؤة في تلك المياه الباردة ؟

فقدت مفهوم الوقت. كان لديّ فقط عيون لتلك اللّؤلؤة.

رؤية اللّؤلؤة غيّرت حياتي. غيّرت لون العالم . أصبحت زهوري أكثر جمالاً ، الجبال...أكثر بهجة‏ ، الموسيقى... أكثر توافقًا ، و يوميًّا الطعام...أكثر لذة ... كان كل شيئ متعة للحواسّ .

متّ ببطء. يومًا بعد يوم نزلت لرؤية اللّؤلؤة. لؤلؤتي. لم أفكّر أبدًا في أخذه من هناك . كان ذلك مكانه.

تدريجيًّا ، البحر امتلأ بالسّمكة الذّهبيّة. ظهر المرجان. أصبحت المياه أدفأ . لم أحتج للخروج بعد الآن لأخذ الهواء . كان جلدي مسئولاً عن التّنفّس. احتجت لمشاهدته فقط . لمعرفة أنّها كانت هناك . كان كافيًا .

في يوم من الأيّام ، بدون معرفة السّبب ، أصبح الماء مظلمًا ، مظلم جدًّا. حدث فجأة. لم يكن من الممكن أن أعرف الأسباب أبدًا... الآثار فقط. لم يكن هناك سمكة ذهبيّة و مرجان بعد الآن لم يعد بالإمكان أن أحتمل داخل تلك الجحيم، كان الأوكسيجين غير كافي. إذا حاولت النّزول للبحث عن السبب، سأقدّم موتي. و متّ ببطء.

بالفعل ميّت تقريبًا ، أتذكّر . أتذكّر أن مرّة قد ، بدون امتلاكه ، أجمل لؤلؤة في العالم . الآن ، لإصلاح الذّاكرة ، أنظر إلى صورة فرمير ، البنت بحلق لؤلؤة ، و أصاحب الرّؤية بموسيقى ليزا جيراد ، بالضّبط ، ركّاب الحوت، بينما أموت ببطء.

بي . دي . مخصّص للّؤلؤة ، لؤلؤتي

نعم، تمكّنت من أخذ الصورة للكأس.
أريد شكر AiYiYi صديقي لتصحيح هذا النّصّ ، مقالي الأوّل في هذه اللّغة ، بما أنه عمومي و رديء السمعة ، ‏ إنجليزيّتي ليس جيّدة هي التي منعتني ، ضمن أشياء أخرى ، لزواج ملكة إنجلترا .

ترجم إلى اللّغة العربيّة من قبل أحمد (ِAMA) ،
صديقي

texto: Y llamé a las puertas del cielo - WAST / OVNM / INT 070321

fotografía: @444-FB-Estambres de Feijoa 2120-R

música: Porcupine Tree - Lullaby

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P.D. Dedicado a La Perla
Sí, la foto del cáliz la hice.

Puedes encontrar esta historia traducida al:
inglés, gallego, francés, chino y árabe aquí
¡Es un capricho!

E chamei ás portas do Ceo

2007-03-23T11:11:00.003+01:00

Eu estaba nun pequeño pobo, próximo á única cidade da costa norte que mira ao sur, intentando facer unha fotografía ao cáliz dunha pequena e sinxela, pero fermosa flor, cando un escintileo luminoso distraeu a miña atención. Separei a cámara da miña cara e miré coidadosamente ao seu obxectivo. Estaba limpo.

Mirei ao sol, e non percibín nada diferente a calquera outro día. Renovei o intento, captar un momento máxico nese cáliz, e de novo volvín percibir un escintileo, esta vez algo máis acusado. Deixei a cámara e mirei cara ao Sol. Nada, non había nada.

Ao intentar coller a cámara de novo, cousa que xa non cheguei a facer, notei unha certa luminosidade polo rabiño do ollo. Virei a cabeza e o escintileo estaba alí, sobrevoando o macizo de flores, a uns dous metros de altura. A miña cara volveuse pálida.

Eu non son creyente. Non creo en nada... ou case nada. De crer en algo eu dixese que era un anxo, ou ánxela dado que non percibía atributos diferenciadores.

Claramente notei que me dicía, cun encantador sorriso, sen que se observase movemento algún nos seus delgados beizos, vaite, busca e atoparás.

Quedeime anonadado. Iso non me podía estar pasando a min. ¿a dónde tiña que ir? ¿Que tiña que buscar? ¿Qué ía atopar? Ademáis, ¿Quen era ese ser? ¿Tería que darlle carta de natureza e afirmar a súa existencia?

E non puiden facer máis ese día. Realmente, si puiden. Pasei todo o día pensando no que me sucedeu. A min. Un escéptico, un agnóstico recalcitrante.

Chamei. Sí, chamei. Chamei ás portas do ceo, sabendo que non existe un ceo, como moito, un inferno aquí na terra salpicado por instantes de paraíso.

E abriuse unha porta. Alí, co seu sorriso encantador, alí estaba. Repetiume, vaite, busca e atoparás. E tiven unha vaga visión. Eu vinme, por un momento, na Lúa, ou Marte, quizais algo así.

Á mañá seguinte saín con destino a Lanzarote, non sei por que, e unha vez alí, cheirei todas e cada unha das pedras de lava volcánica, seguindo un rastro de non sé que. Entrei no interior da terra, bañeime na calor do volcán ata desfacerme polos poros da miña pel...

Regresei coa estraña sensación de que esa experiencia era gratificante. Nada máis.

Chamei de novo ás portas do ceo. Non fixo falta que chamase, estaba esperándome ás portas. Repetiume, vaite, busca e atoparás. E de novo unha vaga visión. Estaba baixo o mar, espido. Acompañábame moita xenté moi diferente a min.

E a mañá seguinte, sen saber por que razón, estaba voando cara a Toba, Xapón, onde ao cegar esperábame, sen saber porque, unha comitiva de diminutas mulleres que me levaron a unha bahía. Mergullámonos nas súas augas onde me ensinaron, e rápidamente aprendín, a técnica do mergullo a pulmón libre.

Eran unhas expertas, elas naceran extraendo as mellores perlas do leito mariño, e dicíanme que alí lles atoparía a morte algún día. Eran felices e sorrían todo o tempo. Eu correspondíalles do mellor xeito que sabía facer.

Dixéronme adeus. Que xa sabía todo o que tiña que saber, e que buscase onde ninguén buscaría antes.

Chamei ás portas do ceo. Esta vez non estaba ninguénpara recibirme. Un cartel de plateado cor dicía: Norte – Illa – Moi Frío – Abaixo.

Non tiña sentido para min. Só norte era unha indicación.

Decidín deixar ao destino. Púxenme na estrada e parei ao primeiro coche. Ía en dirección norte. E pasaron os días, por un estraño azar, todos os coches que paraba ían en dirección norte. E deste xeito cheguei a unha costa que tiña enfronte unha pequena illa.

Despois souben que era de pouco máis de 30 quilómetros cadrados.

Na praia notei un auga xelada. Certamente, pensei, estou no Mar do Norte, non pode estar a auga doutra forma. Con todo, as indicacións das portas do ceo comezaban a ter coherencia.

Acordeime das miñas amigas xaponesas, espinme e lanceime ao auga. Mergulleime incansablemente nunhas augas extrañamente cristalinas. Só estaba eu. Ningún deses peixes de cores. Nada de arrecifes de coral, nada de nada. Soamente area branca e fina.

Non sei canto tempo pasou pero ao final distinguino claramente. Un escintileo. Quizá o mesmo que notara cando estaba fotografando aquel cáliz.

Agradecín profundamente ás miñas mestras xaponesas a arte do mergullo a pulmón libre. Alí estaba eu, aguantando sen esforzo todo o tempo do mundo, ollando...

A máis fermosa perla que xamais poida ser imaxinada.
¿Cómo imaxinar unha perla así nesas frías augas?

Perdín a noción do tempo. Eu só tiña ollos para aquela perla.

A visión da perla cambiou a miña vida. O mundo cambiou de cor. As miñas flores fixéronse máis belas, as montañas... máis altas, a música... máis armoniosa, a comida de cada día máis deliciosa... Todo era un goce para os sentidos.

Morría lentamente. Día a día baixaba a ollar a perla. A miña perla. Xamais se me ocorreu a idea de sacala de alí. Ese era o seu lugar.

Aos poucos, o mar encheuse de peixes de cores. Xurdiu o coral. As augas fixéronse máis cálidas. Xa non necesitaba subir a tomar aire. A miña pel encargábase de respirar por min. Só necesitaba vela. Saber que estaba alí. Era suficiente.

Un día, sen saber porque, a auga tornouse escura, moi escura. Sucedeu de súpeto. Nunca puiden coñecer as causas... pero si os efectos. Xa non había corales e peixes de cores. Xa non podía aguantar dentro daquel inferno, o osíxeno resultábame insuficiente. Se intentaba baixar a buscar unha causa, aceleraba a miña morte. E morría lentamente.

Xa case morto, recordo. Recordo que unha vez tiven, sen ter, a perla máis fermosa do mundo. Agora, para fixar o recordo, miro o cadro de Vermeer, a Moza da Perla, e acompaño a visión con música de Lisa Gerrad, exactamente, Whale Riders, mentres eu morro lentamente.

P. D. Dedicado á Perla
Sí, a foto do cáliz fíxena.

(Quero agradecer á miña amiga AiYiYi a traducción deste texto, o meu primero artigo nesta lingua que eu debería coñecer)

texto: Y llamé a las puertas del cielo - WAST / OVNM / INT 070321

fotografía: @444-FB-Estambres de Feijoa 2120-R

música: Porcupine Tree - Lullaby

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P.D. Dedicado a La Perla
Sí, la foto del cáliz la hice.

Puedes encontrar esta historia traducida al:
inglés, gallego, francés, chino y árabe aquí
¡Es un capricho!

003 - Et J'ai frappe aux portes des cieux

2007-03-22T11:11:00.004+01:00

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ET J'AI FRAPPE AUX PORTES DES CIEUX

J’ étais dans un petit village, proche à l’unique ville de la còte Nord qui regarde vers le Sud, en train d’essayer de faire une photographie au calice d’une petite et simple, mais belle fleur, quand une étincelle lumineuse altera mon attention. Je separai la camera de mon visage et je regardai soigneusement son objectif. Il était propre.

Je regardai le soleil et je n’aperçus rien qui ne soit different à quelconque autre jour. Je repris la tentative, capter un moment magique de ce calice et à nouveau je perçus une étincelle, cette fois un peu plus prononcée. Je laissai l’ appareil photo et je regardai vers le soleil. Rien, il n’y avait rien.

En essayant de reprendre ma camera, geste que je n’ai pu faire, j’aperçus une certaine luminosité du coin de l’oeil. Je retournai la tête et l’ étincelle était là, survolant le massif de fleurs, à peu près à deux metres de hauteur. Mon visage devint pâle.

Je ne suis pas croyant. Je ne crois en rien ou plutôt à presque rien. D’avoir cru en quelque chose j’aurais dit que c’était un ange ou une ange du fait que je ne voyais aucun attribut different.

Avec clarté, j’aperçus qu’il me disait avec un sourire charmant , sans observer aucun mouvement de ses lèvres minces, “va; cherche et tu trouveras”. Oui c’est ce que j’ai cru comcomprendre, va, cherche et tu trouveras.

Je restai anéanti. Cela ne pouvait m’arriver à moi. Où devais-je aller? Que devais-je chercher? Qu’allais-je trouver? En plus, qui était cet être? Je devrais lui donner des lettres de naturalisation et affirmer son existence?

Et je ne pus rien faire ce jour là. Réellement, si je pus. Je pensai toute la journée à penser à ce qui m’était arrivé. A moi. Un sceptique , un agnostique recalcitrant.

Je frappai, oui je frappai. Je frappai aux portes des cieux, en sachant que les cieux n’existaient pas, tout au plus un enfer ici sur la Terre parsemé d’instants de paradis.

Et une porte s’ouvrit. Il était là avec son sourire charmant. Il me répéta, va, cherche et tu trouveras. Et j’ eus une vague vision. Je me vis pendant un instant sur la Lune ou Mars, Peut-être quelque chose qui lui ressemble.

Le matin suivant, je partis vers Lanzarote, je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais une fois là- bas, je furetai toutes et chacune des pierres de la lave volcanique, suivant une piste de je ne sais quoi. J’entrai à l’interieur de la Terre, je me baignai dans la chaleur du volcan jusqu’à me fondre par les pores de ma peau.

Je retournai avec l’étrange sensation que cette experience était gratificante. Rien de plus.

Je frappai à nouveau aux portes des cieux. Il ne fut pas nécessaire rappeler, il était là, m’attendant devant la porte. Il me repeta, va, cherche et tu trouveras. Et à nouveau une vague vision. J’étais sous l’eau, tout nu. J’étais accompagné par beaucoup de gens trés differents à moi.

Et le matin suivant, sans savoir pourquoi, je volais vers Toba, Japon où en arrivant j’ètais attendu sans savoir pourquoi, par un cortège de toutes petites femmes qui m’enmenèrent à une baie. Nous nous sumergâmes dans ses eaux, où elles m’apprirent et rapidement j’appris la technique de la plongée à poumon libre.

Elles étaient expertes, elles étaient nées en estrayant les meilleures perles du fond marin et elles me disaient que c’est là où elles trouveraient un jour la mort. Elles étaient heureuses et souriaient tout le temps. Moi, je leur repondais de la meilleure façon que je savais.

Elles me dirent au revoir. Que je savais tout ce que je devais savoir et que je devais chercher là où personne n’avait cherché avant.

J’appelai aux portes des cieux. Cette fois il n’y avait personne pour me recevoir. Un écriteau argenté disait: Nord- Ile- Très froid- En bas.
Cela n’avait aucun sens pour moi. Seul le Nord était une indication.
Je décidai laisser le destin. Je me mis en route et j’arrêtai la première voiture. Elle allait en direction du Nord. Les jours passeient, par un étrange hasard, toutes les voitures qui s’arrêtaient, allaient en direction du Nord. Et de cette façon j’arrivai à une côte qui avait en face d’une petite île.
Après je sus qu’elle avait un peu plus de 30 kilometres carrés.

Sur la plage je sentis une eau glaciale. Bien sûr, pensai-je, je suis dans la mer du Nord, l’eau ne peut-être d’une autre manière. Cependant les indications des portes des cieux commencaient à avoir coherence.

Je me souvins de mes amies japonaises, je me deshabillai et je me lançai à l’eau. Je nageai sans fatigue sous des eaux étrangement cristalines. Il n’y avait que moi. Aucun poissons de couleurs. Aucun recif de corail, rien de rien. Seulement du sable blanc et fin.

Je ne sais pas combien de temps passa mais à la fin je la distingai clairement. Une ètincelle. Peut-être la même que celle que j’avais aperçue quand j’étais en train de photographier le calice.

Je remerciai profondement mes maitresses japonaises l’art de la plongée à poumon libre. J’ étais là-bas, supportant sans effort tout le temps du monde, en regardant…
La plus belle perle qu’on n’a jamais pu imaginée.
Comment imaginer une telle perle dans ces eaux glacées?

Je perdis la notion du temps. Je n’avais d’yeux que pour cette perle.
La vision de la perle changea ma vie. Le monde changea de couleur. Mes fleurs devinent plus belles , les montagnes... plus hautes, la musique…plus harmonieuse, la nourriture de chaque jour plus délicieuse... Tout était un plaisir pour les sens.

Je mourais lentement. Jour après jour je descendais voir la perle. Ma perle. Je n’ai jamais eu l’idée de la sortir de là. C’ètait sa place.

Peu à peu, la mer s’est remplie de poissons de couleurs. Le corail surgit. Les eaux de vinrent plus chaudes. Je n’avais plus besoin de monter à la surface pour prendre de l’air. Ma peau se chargeait de respirer pour moi. J’avais seulement besoin de la voir.

Un jour, sans savoir pourquoi, l’eau redevint obscure, très obscure. Cela arriva tout à coup. Je n’ai jamais pu en connaitre les causes... mais si les effets. Il n’y avait plus des coraux, ni de poissons de couleurs. Je ne pouvais plus supporter cet enfer, l’oxygène m’était insuffisant. Si j’essayais de descendre pour chercher une cause, j’accélerais ma mort. Et je mourais lentement.

Deja presque mort, je me souviens. Je me souviens qu’une fois j’eus, sans avoir la perle la plus belle du monde. Maintenant, pour fixer le souvenir, je regarde le tableau de Vermeer, la Demoiselle de la Perle, et j’ accompagne la vision avec la musique de Lisa Gerrad, exactement, Whale Riders, pendant que je meurs lentement.

PD. Recit dédié à la Perle
Oui, la photo du calice je l’ai faite.

Quiero agradecer a mi amiga Ana la traducción de mi texto a esta lengua, ya que es público y notorio mi mal francés (ninguno tirando a cero), que me ha impedido, entre otras cosas, ser Presidente de la VI República. gracias también, Emma por el tecleo.

texto: Y llamé a las puertas del cielo - WAST / OVNM / INT 070321

fotografía: @444-FB-Estambres de Feijoa 2120-R

música: Porcupine Tree - Lullaby

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*
*

P.D. Dedicado a La Perla
Sí, la foto del cáliz la hice.

Puedes encontrar esta historia traducida al:
inglés, gallego, francés, chino y árabe aquí
¡Es un capricho!

002 - Y llamé a las puertas del cielo

2007-03-21T11:11:00.007+01:00

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Y llamé a las puertas del cielo

Estaba en un pequeño pueblo, cercano a la única ciudad de la costa norte que mira al sur, intentando hacer una fotografía al cáliz de una pequeña y sencilla, pero hermosa flor, cuando un destello luminoso distrajo mi atención. Separé la cámara de mi cara y mire cuidadosamente a su objetivo. Estaba limpio. ****

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Miré al sol, y no percibí nada diferente a cualquier otro día. Reanudé el intento de captar un momento mágico en ese cáliz, y de nuevo volví a percibir un destello, esta vez algo más acusado. Dejé la cámara y miré hacia el Sol. Nada, no había nada.

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Al intentar coger la cámara de nuevo, cosa que ya no llegué a hacer, noté una cierta luminosidad por el rabillo del ojo. Giré la cabeza y el destello estaba allí, sobrevolando el macizo de flores, a unos dos metros de altura. Mi cara se volvió pálida.

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Yo no soy creyente. No creo en cada... o casi nada. De haber creído en algo hubiese dicho que era un ángel, o ángela dado que no percibía atributos diferenciadores.
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Claramente noté que me decía, con una encantadora sonrisa, sin que se observara movimiento alguno en sus delgados labios, vete, busca y encontrarás. Si, eso creí entender, vete, busca y encontrarás.

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Me quedé anonadado. Eso no me podía estar pasando a mí. ¿A donde tenía que ir? ¿Qué tenía que buscar? ¿Qué iba a encontrar? Además, ¿Quién era ese ser? ¿Tendría que darle carta de naturaleza y afirmar su existencia?

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Y no pude hacer más ese día. Realmente, si pude. Pasé todo el día pensando en lo que me había sucedido. A mí. Un escéptico, un agnóstico recalcitrante.
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Llamé. Si, llamé. Llamé a las puertas del cielo, sabiendo que no existe un cielo, como mucho, un infierno aquí en la tierra salpicado por instantes de paraíso.

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Y se abrió una puerta. Allí, con su sonrisa encantadora, allí estaba. Me repitió, vete, busca y encontrarás. Y tuve una vaga visión. Me vi, por un momento, en la Luna, o Marte, quizás algo así.

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A la mañana siguiente salí con destino a Lanzarote, no sé por qué, y una vez allí, olisqueé todas y cada una de las piedras de lava volcánica, siguiendo un rastro de no sé qué. Entré en el interior de la tierra, me bañé en el calor del volcán hasta deshacerme por los poros de mi piel...

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Regresé con la extraña sensación de que esa experiencia era gratificante. Nada más. *****

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Llamé de nuevo a las puertas del cielo. No hizo falta que llamara, estaba esperándome a las puertas. Me repitió, vete, busca y encontrarás. Y de nuevo una vaga visión. Estaba bajo el mar, desnudo. Me acompañaba mucha gente muy diferente a mí.
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Y a la mañana siguiente, sin saber por que razón, estaba volando hacia Toba, Japón, donde al llegar me esperaba, sin saber por qué, una comitiva de diminutas mujeres que me llevaron a una bahía. Nos sumergimos en sus aguas donde me enseñaron, y rápidamente aprendí, la técnica del buceo a pulmón libre.
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Eran unas expertas, habían nacido extrayendo las mejores perlas del lecho marino, y me decían que allí les encontraría la muerte algún día. Eran felices y sonreían todo el tiempo. Yo les correspondía de la mejor manera que sabía hacer.

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Me dijeron adiós. Que ya sabía todo lo que tenía que saber, y que buscase en donde nadie habría buscado antes.

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Llamé a las puertas del cielo. Esta vez no estaba nadie para recibirme. Un cartel de plateado color decía: Norte – Isla - Muy Frío – Abajo. No tenía sentido para mí. Solo norte era una indicación.

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Decidí dejar al destino. Me puse en carretera y paré al primer coche. Iba en dirección norte. Y pasaron los días, por un extraño azar, todos los coches que paraba iban en dirección norte. Y de este modo llegué a una costa que tenía enfrente una pequeña isla. Después supe que era de poco más de 30 kilómetros cuadrados.
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En la playa noté un agua heladora. Claro, pensé, estoy en el Mar del Norte, no puede estar el agua de otra forma. Sin embargo, las indicaciones de las puertas del cielo comenzaban a tener coherencia.

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Me acordé de mis amigas japonesas, me desnudé y me lancé al agua. Buceé incansablemente en unas aguas extrañamente cristalinas. Solo estaba yo. Ninguno de esos peces de colores. Nada de arrecifes de coral, nada de nada. Solamente arena blanca y fina.
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No sé cuanto tiempo pasó pero al final lo distinguí claramente. Un destello. Quizá el mismo que había notado cuando estaba fotografiando aquél cáliz.
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Agradecí profundamente a mis maestras japonesas el arte del buceo a pulmón libre. Allí estaba yo, aguantando sin esfuerzo todo el tiempo del mundo, viendo...
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La más hermosa perla que jamás pueda ser imaginada.
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¿Cómo imaginar una perla así en esas frías aguas?

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Perdí la noción del tiempo. Solo tenía ojos para aquella perla. La visión de la perla cambió mi vida. El mundo cambió de color. Mis flores se hicieron más bellas, las montañas… más altas, la música… más armoniosa, la comida de cada día más deliciosa...Todo era un goce para los sentidos.

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Moría lentamente. Día a día bajaba a ver la perla. Mi perla. Jamás se me ocurrió la idea de sacarla de allí. Ese era su lugar.

Poco a poco, el mar se llenó de peces de colores. Surgió el coral. Las aguas se hicieron más cálidas. Ya no necesitaba subir a tomar aire. Mi piel se encargaba de respirar por mí. Solo necesitaba verla. Saber que estaba allí. Era suficiente.

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Un día, sin saber porqué, el agua se tornó oscura, muy oscura. Sucedió de repente. Nunca pude conocer las causas... pero sí los efectos. Ya no había corales y peces de colores. Ya no podía aguantar dentro de aquel infierno, el oxígeno me resultaba insuficiente. Si intentaba bajar a buscar una causa, aceleraba mi muerte. Y moría lentamente.

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Ya casi muerto, recuerdo. Recuerdo que una vez tuve, sin tener, la perla más hermosa del mundo. Ahora, para fijar el recuerdo, miro el cuadro de Vermeer, la Joven de la Perla, y acompaño la visión con música de Lisa Gerrad, exactamente, Whale Riders, mientras muero lentamente.

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P.D. Dedicado a La Perla
Sí, la foto del cáliz la hice.
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///INT 001/070321 - Y llamé a las puertas del cielo (WAST/OVNM 070321)
///foto: C2120 - Estambres de feijoa
///música: Porcupine Tree - Lullaby