I think this space will be slowly transformed into my secret world of poetry.

'Red rain is coming down
Red rain
Red rain is pouring down
Pouring down all over me

I am standing up at the water's edge in my dream
I cannot make a single sound as you scream
It can't be that cold, the ground is still warm to touch.
This place is so quiet, sensing that storm.

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'Hay veces en que los silbidos no se escuchan ni en el mayor de los silencios.

Dos montañas rociadas al mando del alto cielo. Vigilante y siempre atento.

Dos fuegos estremecidos por el viento de los soplidos abundantes, de los ríos muertos.

Que siempre están presentes para apagar las llamas y llevarse las cenizas.

Esos ríos muertos de envidia, ( Read more... )

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It is common for me to feel as a kind of predator when I’m in an art exposition. If you see me walking on one, you will realize how my eyes are looking for a victim. This feeling arises not because I have a complete technical knowledge to interpret the pieces of art that I’m exposed to or because I try to feel superior, but just because sometimes I ( Read more... )