tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1612136882632937102024-03-13T12:19:44.588+01:00If you could wake up anywhere in the world tomorrow which place would you chose?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-62698091790945671682015-06-19T12:51:00.000+02:002016-08-30T23:22:21.662+02:00The mark of the past<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12px;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is just memory that we need sometimes. It is certain that we should not live in the past, but the past is the memory of the future. The memory of the past helps us to remember little details. Past details that belong to the future. </span></div>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span><i>Tell me, have you ever thought of the past</i>? </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Are you interested in <i>my thinking of the past</i> ..... (Silence)</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Yes, I am. Very much so, indeed. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>And, what do you think? </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Sometimes I think about when I was nothing. We were dust that belonged to the future. And you? Do you think about the past?</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>I have never had such an idea in mind. I don't even know what the past is. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>If it had not been for that danaus chrysippus, you would be still thinking of the past. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>How do you know it? It was so beautiful and colourful, but ephemeral. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>I knew that you would remember it! I knew it! There were a lot of letters, numbers, loads of laughs full of innocence. The light, was entering through the windows, we ran desperately, there was a tower. Exactly, a tower! You raised your hand, and me…me, I was living, living my life. You remember right? I longed for present youth and future happiness. And then, the snail followed his path. Although I did not know it either. I was not sure that there was a snail in the past. I have a sudden mental image of it, NOW, in the future. I can picture it with glowing thoughts. Right? You remember? tell me, you remember, right? </span></li>
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<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>I don't know what you are talking about</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>The horse, yes! the horse. An L shaped horse. Jack mate. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>You have never paid attention to those things before. And the snail followed his path, and now you want me to think about the past. You care about my memory of the past, and of the tower and of nothing at all.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>If I had thought about the past out of the future, I would not know how to describe it now. You don't understand? Actually, I would not be thinking about it now. Not even the snail would be treading his path. He would have deviated from it.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>How long does a snail last?</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>About 25 years, not as long as the butterfly. You remember?</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>No, I don't. The butterfly… it wasn't a butterfly, it was a dragonfly. Oh my god, you are the one who doesn't remember anything!</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>I have already told you. It is not good to put limits on our memories. The less you expect, the sooner it happens. It is not until that moment of impact in which the dragonfly becomes a butterfly, the butterfly lasts more than a wild snail, the past turns future, and you realise that you have been unconsciously observing the snail’s movements for more than ten years, that you understand that the snail’s process mustn't stop. He must not stop actually. He shall not deviate from it. Snails do not pay attention to anything, their sight is limited and, they only pop out at night. It is when you understand that if the snail would have stopped, just there, right in the palm of your hand, in an ever-fixed point, when you were about to touch it, it would have been as if you would have fed him with sugar, or even with salt. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Why?</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Because he would have died. Also, snails do not stop in ever-fixed points.</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>So, would you dare to do it? </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Maybe</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>(Silence)</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Don't you wanna ask anything else?</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Gonna go to bed, you remember? </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>What?</span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>I love that you remember. The butterfly, the snail, the tower, the hand, our talks, the window, and the light. And the L shaped horse. Jack Mate. And, well, what do we do till the snail stops? </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>He is not going to stop. He will never do it. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>But, it lasts 25 years, doesn't it? </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>Not this one, no. This one will last what we help him last longer. When you stop asking me about it and I stop thinking about you, then it will stop. </span></li>
<li style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica";"></span>It’s okay then. Let’s go to bed. </span></li>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I was inspired in Virginia Woolf’s <i>Kew Gardens,</i> a magnificent short story full of conceits, metaphors and love. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-8559953472595387982015-06-17T00:25:00.001+02:002015-06-17T00:25:26.786+02:00Vestigio en el olvidoAlgunas veces sólo necesitas memoria. Es cierto que dicen que no se debe vivir en el pasado, pero su recuerdo es el futuro. La memoria del pasado ayuda a recordar pequeños detalles con los que entender cosas, cosas pasadas que pertenecen al futuro.<br />
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- Dime, ¿has pensado alguna vez en el pasado?<br />
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- ¿Te interesa si pienso en el pasado?<br />
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- Silencio.<br />
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- Pues si. Lo hago a menudo.<br />
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- Y, ¿qué piensas?<br />
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- En cuando no era nada. Éramos el polvo del futuro. Y tu, ¿piensas en el pasado?<br />
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- Nunca he tenido esa idea en la cabeza. Ni siquiera sé lo que es el pasado.<br />
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- Si no hubiese sido por esa danaus chrysippus aún estarías pensando en el pasado.<br />
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- ¿Cómo lo sabes? Era tan bonita, colorida y efímera.<br />
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- ¡Ves como te acuerdas!. Había tantas letras, tantos números, decenas de risas llenas de inocencia. La luz, entraba por las ventanas, corríamos desesperadamente, había una torre. Exacto, ¡una torre! Tú levantabas tu mano, y yo... yo vivía. ¿Te acuerdas, verdad? Y luego el caracol seguía su rumbo. Aunque en el pasado, yo tampoco sabía que había un caracol. Su imagen me ha llegado ahora, en el futuro. ¿Verdad? ¿Te acuerdas? ¿Te acuerdas?<br />
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- No se de qué me hablas.<br />
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- El caballo, en forma de ele. Jaque mate.<br />
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- Nunca prestaste atención a esas cosas antes. Y el caracol recorría su camino, y ahora pretendes que piense en el pasado, y en la torre, y en nada.<br />
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- Si hubiese recordado el pasado fuera del futuro, no sabría describirlo ahora. Ni siquiera el caracol seguiría caminando.<br />
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- ¿Cuánto dura un caracol?<br />
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- Unos 25 años, no tanto como la mariposa. ¿Te acuerdas?<br />
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- No, no me acuerdo. La mariposa, no era una mariposa era una libélula. ¡Ves!, la que no te acuerdas eres tu.<br />
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- Ya te lo he dicho, no es bueno ponerle límites a la memoria. Aparece cuando menos te lo esperas. En ese momento en el que justo la libélula se transforma en mariposa, la mariposa dura más que un caracol salvaje, el pasado es futuro, y te das cuenta de que llevas observando inconscientemente los movimientos del caracol más de diez años, comprendes que no quieres que el caracol interrumpa su camino. Los caracoles no escuchan, ni ven, y sólo salen por la noche. Es, en ese momento, cuando entiendes que si el caracol se hubiese parado, justo ahí en la palma de tu mano, apoyándose en un punto fijo, cuando <i>estabas</i> a punto de cogerlo, habría sido como darle azúcar -o incluso sal-.<br />
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- ¿Por qué?<br />
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- Porque hubiese muerto. Los caracoles no ejercen fuerza sobre puntos concretos.<br />
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- Entonces, ¿te arriesgarías?<br />
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- Quizás<br />
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- Silencio.<br />
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- ¿Ya no preguntas?<br />
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- Me voy a la cama, ¿te acuerdas?<br />
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- ¿De que?<br />
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- Me gusta que te acuerdes. La mariposa, el caracol, la torre, la mano, nuestras risas, la ventana, la luz. Y el caballo en forma de ele. <i>Jaque mate</i>. Y, bueno, ¿que hacemos hasta que el caracol pare?<br />
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- No va a parar, jamás lo hará.<br />
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- Pero, ¿no duraba 25 años?<br />
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- Este no, este dura lo que nosotros duremos. Cuando tu dejes de preguntarme y yo de recordarte, entonces parará.<br />
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- Me parece bien. Vámonos a la cama.<br />
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Inspirada en Virginia Woolf "Kew Gardens"<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-69303027982608902452015-06-02T00:33:00.000+02:002015-06-02T10:40:35.690+02:00He & she <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pctP_LM-k8-ri4YDC1UOZX2HvGolq7xm2gwLkOF8vc7HbsMi1KYH6Ho9LepJED7vHPhTNZCOkaxvwDaa7BDcOEYk6VZvH8PYpUIWGENDmcLwBHFcdgZA0i8bT1h4VNyuT7HKi0W0TPpt/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pctP_LM-k8-ri4YDC1UOZX2HvGolq7xm2gwLkOF8vc7HbsMi1KYH6Ho9LepJED7vHPhTNZCOkaxvwDaa7BDcOEYk6VZvH8PYpUIWGENDmcLwBHFcdgZA0i8bT1h4VNyuT7HKi0W0TPpt/s320/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">He looked at her, she was staring at him for a minute or so and then it stopped, he smiled. </span><br />
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It had been happening for three days in a row. Then it stopped again. </div>
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They could perfectly understand each other. His eyes were full of passion, hers were more kind of doubtful. </div>
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She read his mind. He read hers. There was a bunch of emerging emotions which had been inside both of them for a while. They blew up as it was expected. </div>
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He took her hand, assertively. Her eyes hold a bright shadow between her eyebrows and cheeks, and there was a peaceful expression upon her face. There was a transparent light between them. It linked them both in such a reciprocal manner that a burning desire of kissing emerged. </div>
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Then, a mark on his heart, like an ever fixed stain, appeared in the middle of his chest as if his emotions were going to be released. However, they were not. He kept the truth inside his heart and told it with his eyes. </div>
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They never let go of each other's hands</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-4272165312575569182015-05-16T10:57:00.000+02:002015-05-16T10:57:07.635+02:00Bucket list1. Learn to be patient<br />
2. Understand love<br />
3. Become a professor<br />
4. Spend a sabbatical year out<br />
5. You<br />
6. Live in the USA<br />
7. Write a novel<br />
8. Run my own business<br />
9. Develop my own theory on selfishness & human interests<br />
10. Become a grandma<br />
11. Travel around the world<br />
12. Swim naked in the Atlantic Ocean<br />
13. Go to Las Vegas<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-75457585303376804812015-05-13T01:16:00.001+02:002015-06-19T20:25:03.325+02:00Don't let it go <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: justify;">
“The longest ride” is called the film that I have just seen. I have realised two things: the first one is that there are some people who do not pay attention to little things in life and the second is that little things are worth noticing because they bring you happiness. </div>
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“Love is sacrifice” says one of the main characters of the film. And, I couldn't agree more literally. Every day I am more sure about the existence of true love. True love exists. However, it is difficult to find. Nowadays, there are people who do not actually fight for what they want because they are afraid or just tired. And there I am lying on my bed writing this instead of being sleeping, and I am tired too. Sometimes rules must be broken. And we might chose a path different to reason. Because maybe the right thing is just under your fucking nose waiting to be released, and you don't know it or simply don't want to know it.</div>
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There are those moments of impact in life when you meet someone who you thought he broke your heart, and suddenly you just need three months to realise that the heartbreaker is not your focus of attention anymore. He is not even a heartbreaker because he broke nothing. He showed you the way to have new feelings and emotions. The path is now opened. Keep discovering it. That is the way in which a human being grows up. </div>
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One day you just wake up and start thinking about everything that surrounds you. You cannot be more grateful. You start paying attention to the little details that you have had and still have around you. Your family, some people, some friends, important people who you realise you badly want in your life. However, it is not possible right now to have it all. You close your eyes and look back to childhood when you did not know anything about life. You were happy, running to and fro under the sky. Now you open your eyes and you are not a child anymore. But keeping the faith is important. Because the path to happiness is never closed. It keeps existing.</div>
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There are many free birds out there looking for something, but one day they will need a cage to stay in. They will need the real cage, the cage that they really want. Because there are ephemeral cages, but nothing compared to the ones that you truly want. Forgive me if you are reading this at the moment, right now, sitting in front of my text, thinking that these lines (my lines) are senseless but someday I will try to explain you everything because it makes sense. </div>
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Last but not least, if you have ever had a true love don't let it go. Keep it next to you because some of the little things that probably will make you happy till the end of your life will be it. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-74546189792063931462015-04-06T12:34:00.001+02:002015-04-06T12:35:15.046+02:00Speechless but passionate<span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; line-height: 16px;">¿Hablar sin palabras? ¿Eso cómo es? Puede hacerse. ¿Sentir sin expresarlo? Que se yo… que sabes tu… que sabe nadie. Si los sentimientos no se pueden frenar. Son el fluido de un cúmulo de sensaciones gratas e ingratas que pensamos de situaciones de la vida. De esas de impacto, cuando te das cuenta de que todo empezó mucho antes de lo que imaginabas, cuando no querías admitirlo pero era y es así, como tu no sabías. Ahora ya lo sabes. Ahora ya no vale decir “NO”, porque MIENTES. Tu “yo" interior lo sabe. Intentar calmar la lucha interna que hay en tu corazón no servirá de nada. No servirá de nada ignorar lo que sientes. Porque es inevitable. Tarde o temprano te acabará comiendo. Y te matará. El tiempo te responde.... Porqué esto no pasó, porqué esto no siguió, porqué aquello paró, porqué me miró de esa manera...? ¿porqué hablamos sin palabras? que se yo… que sabes tu… que sabe nadie. No puedes luchar contra tu “yo” interior. El tiempo pasa y el camino se va despejando. Tus dudas ya no son dudas. Ya tienes todo más claro. Tu “yo” interior te delata. Es inevitable y a la vez es bonito. Es precioso sentir. Por eso hay que aprovechar esos momentos de impacto de la vida, que a veces están ahí pero otras se esfuman como humo. Y de repente, un día cualquiera te levantas y tu “yo” interior te dice SI. ¿Era producto de tu imaginación? No, realmente no. Por eso, todo empezó mucho antes de lo que tu imaginabas. Y era un si. Pero todo es difícil. Y raro. Difícil y raro eso. Porque ya no eres tu, el SI no depende de ti, ni de tu "yo" interior, ni de esos momentos de impacto. Ya no. No sabes de qué depende nada, ni de donde vienen los SIES o NOES. Sólo sabes con certeza que ya es un SI inevitable. Es un SI precioso. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-89397219005802613762015-03-25T14:49:00.000+01:002015-03-25T14:51:00.057+01:00Getting to know happiness <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The very sound of nature. The rain. Falling drops. Its speed. Love. True love. Inspiration. Your memory. The need for doing what you really want. Looking forward to fathoming life. Need for a kiss. Your image got stuck in my mind. Cool. Ask me again, hug me again, call me again. I won't be there anymore. It's never too late to admit that you are no longer welcome. </span><br />
<div style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
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My life, my path, my purpose. That feeling of actually chasing it. </div>
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The profound feeling of happiness. The thought that it is worth it. Innocence, purity, whiteness. Something thingy. You. Me. Us. Feelings. Our souls together forever. Our bodies now separated, mixed soon though. Very soon. </div>
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There is anger, irate and wrath in the world just because we have to meet them. It is a necessity. It is a must. Bad people with bad intentions towards us have to enter in our lives. They are the ones who make us learn. They make us not to fall again. They actually open our path to happiness. It turns the other cheek. We need to differentiate between what is actually good and evil.</div>
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Envy, violence and obscurity exist and we need to face them quite often. Bad people embody them. Bad people yes. However as they come they go. They disappear as fuck. They are as ephemeral as easy money. We cannot actually complain about the existence of bad things. They are something that we need to experience somehow. Literally. That is how one gets to know happiness. That is how one is aware of the actual beauty of life. </div>
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And suddenly you sit down in a different seat at the train coach and then find the answer. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-53432941208864746752015-03-16T00:29:00.002+01:002015-03-16T00:30:01.724+01:00Te dejaste ir <span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(130, 98, 83, 0.0980392); color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Te dejan ir. De nuevo. Te vas. Desaparecen. Desaparece. Otra vez. Esa sensación de vacío en tu estómago. De nuevo. Con la misma persona. Te dejó ir otra vez. Esta vez todo es diferente. Esta vez ya no quieres que vuelva a dejarte ir. Porque ya te has ido para no volver. Esta vez está completado. Esa sensación de paz en tu estómago. Ese equilibrio interior. Porque te dejó ir de nuevo para no volver a dejarte ir nunca más. Ya no quieres pensar más. Esta vez todo es diferente. El camino de tu vida queda libre, queda limpio y claro. Para disfrutarlo. Esta vez si. Te dejó ir. Agradecerle al universo que te dejase ir. Todo en el momento justo. Todo pasa por algo. A la hora justa. En el minuto justo. ¿Quién era?. Ya no me acuerdo. No te recuerdo. No importa. Solo recuerdo que me dejaste ir. Ahora ya se lo que se siente. Lo descubrí. Gracias por dejarme ir. Gracias por dejarme descubrir que la que quería marcharse era yo. Que yo me quise ir y por eso me fui. Gracias por dejarme ir. Gracias por mostrarme esta sensación de tranquilidad. Gracias por marcharte. Ya no duele. Ya se lo que se siente. Gracias por leerme. Te doy las gracias con mi mejor sonrisa, aunque no puedas verme. Ya no es nada, y realmente no lo fue. ¿Que pasó? Realmente no tiene importancia. Realmente estas serán mis últimas palabras. Ya no me volveré a ir porque ya me fui. Y ahora estoy feliz. Gracias vida. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-7781582204021128652015-01-30T10:11:00.001+01:002015-01-30T10:11:30.675+01:00Chatting to life<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: justify;">
Life is a challenge. It is no bed of roses though. There are, sometimes, waves that must be avoided. They cannot be swam. Sometimes it is life itself that gives you the lesson and not people. That path must be walked down. You must fall down in order to be alive again. For that’s how life puts the right things in the right place. There is no one to blame if you stumble. It has happened because of you. It wasn't your fault. Calm down. It is because of the moments of impact in life. Our experiences are so challenging sometimes that we do not even notice it but as soon as you start living… the path soon starts to be unconsciously walked down. We are stubborn and want to walk it properly but it is not always the point that must be dealt with. The little things in life, those that cannot be superficially enjoyed, are the things that we should worry about. Life is too short to stumble continuously and not standing up immediately. Be close to those things that make you happy. The path has loads of doors that are opened and not always we notice their presence. If one door closes, then walk down for a bit because there will be another wide open. If there is there is some disappointment run away from it. Disappointment is nothing compared to happiness. Chase happiness and not failure. Chase the one. Chase your door. Chase your dreams because they actually come true. If you are sat alone somewhere out there feeling disappointed think positive and your thoughts will be not far from achieving your goal. Life teaches you to cope with difficult situations which are worth it since you learn from them. If you feel the necessity to give, then give. If you do not receive anything from your attempt at giving, then there comes the measure. One needs to create the balance between what is worth it and not. Do you really want to lose your time giving without any feedback? It is up to you and your personal wishes. Time flies, and it is gold. Do not close any door. Be up to everything. Life is wonderful. You are wonderful. And, if there is anything that causes you disappointment smile. Do not stop smiling. Smile is the best sign of happiness that a human being can have on its face. The sun rises every morning and leads you to walk a new undiscovered path to success. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-14954291242065291122014-10-17T11:20:00.000+02:002014-10-17T11:20:06.290+02:00Odio los túnelesNo sabes porqué pero sientes alivio<br />
You take it for granted that it is going to happen, but have no idea about when<br />
Mil mariposas recorren tu alma y <br />
Luchan contra esas serpientes que intentan apoderarse de tu cuerpo<br />
<br />
Ves caras, ves cosas, ves mundo<br />
y ese sentimiento vuelve a aparecer <br />
piensas, <br />
llegas a la conclusión de que todo es nada, <br />
y solo lo que no puedes ver es algo. <br />
<br />
Estar sentado en una nube<br />
mientras contemplas al mundo <br />
es bonito, <br />
pero para hacer eso primero hay que estar vivo<br />
y, luego hay que sentir. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-27746729644618950652014-05-16T15:51:00.001+02:002014-05-16T15:51:25.412+02:00WE<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN-GB">It is when his spirit emerges from the
shadow of the forgotten soul..</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">that I, now a woman still in love with him,
fantasize. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Is it possible to fall in love with someone
you have seen only once or twice in your whole life? Is it possible to become
addicted to somebody’s writing by feeling that you are him and that he is
you..? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Little did I imagine how identified I was
gonna feel with his writings and intellect. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It doesn’t matter how much time do I spend
on thinking about that product of the imagination that I will never forget him.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Is it possible to feel that person next to
you by reading his thoughts even being hundred miles away from him? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I wonder whether this feeling of
uncertainty will cease...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>whether it
will become true or not. “What you think, you become” said Buddha but... to
what extent may I ask? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I can feel his mind melted in mine... it is
still difficult however. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">It is not his beauty that amazes me, it is
the fact that I know from the very first time that I knew about him that our
souls were perfect mates and infinitely compatible. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I think, however, that love comes and goes like everything in life ... love is ephemeral like beauty, youth and awareness since our existence is dominated by the fugacity of hours, minutes and seconds. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Sometimes I think if I shall do something, (no, that's too simple i guess)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">sometimes I think that forced things are too unnatural to be done.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Then, I remember that what we imagine is real and real things are possible and, thus, probable. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I prefer to let life act upon its course and she will be the one to decide, not me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">If I have to meet this perfect and impaired soul again, I will. And, without any doubt, when our minds make love his mind will definitely become charmed by mine ... as I am with his. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-57526874754950525522013-12-03T12:51:00.002+01:002013-12-03T12:51:40.249+01:00Realidad cruel
<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES;">
</span><br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;">Uno de los mayores problemas de hoy en día es que
muchos de nosotros no sabemos apreciar lo que se nos interpone a la vista. Yo,
a veces, la primera. Nos quejamos de cosas que nos hacen falta o querríamos
tener, sin embargo cuando las tenemos ya no las queremos o el interés se
pierde. Por lo tanto, las ideas no están claras. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;">Otorgamos
importancia a cosas insignificantes y no valoramos lo vital. La vida no es
ningún juego, aunque en ocasiones pueda parecerlo. La vida es real, y a veces
corrupta. Y problema es que las personas no saben aprovechar lo que tienen
delante de sus ojos, ya sea en términos de amor, salud, bienestar social u
otros. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 6pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;">Realmente estoy escribiendo esto
porque me pregunto; ¿Cuál será la manera correcta de ver la realidad? Y me
auto-respondo que no la hay. Nuestros ojos no están preparados para ver eso,
nuestra mente quizás si. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;">En esta sociedad, todos estamos en el mismo nivel. No
hay individuo existente más ni menos que otro individuo. Desgraciadamente,
ideas superficiales han reinado la jerarquía y estatus social de nuestro mundo.
Y desde aquí expongo que estoy totalmente en contra de la superficialidad y de
todo lo perfecto. Me gusta lo imperfecto. La naturalidad es algo que
progresivamente se está perdiendo con la ayuda de redes sociales, televisión y
otros. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;"></span> </div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;">¿Porqué nos separamos de algo que nos ha creado? ¿Porqué alteramos
aquello de lo que se supone que deberíamos de estar orgullosos? Mis ojos aún
no son capaces de ver eso, ni mi mente tampoco de entenderlo. Quizás deberíamos
basarnos en aquella idea expuesta en <em>"The Passions and the Interests"</em>
que cuanto más interés colectivo haya en una sociedad más comercio hay, y más
desarrollo mundial aflorará. Y una cosa lleva a la otra y al final vuelve el
caos. Ese caos colectivo es el que el día menos pensado destruirá el ciclo de
nuestras vidas. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.75pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 6pt; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: ES; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: ES;">El amor es otra fuerza del caos capaz de destruir tanto el
interior como el exterior de la persona. ¿Existe el amor real? ¿Qué es amor?
¿Dónde se encuentra? Mis ojos no lo han visto aún, mi mente si, y mi alma lo ha
notado quizás en algún momento. Pienso que se debe de luchar por amor, con
total naturalidad y, ahí será cuando se encuentre esa realidad. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-66262663155126556412013-12-02T21:33:00.000+01:002013-12-02T21:33:48.141+01:00Thingy
<br />
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Where all this hope has gone?<br />
Was it hope?<br />
<span lang="EN-GB">It has left me in doubt </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">The air was passing through our mouths </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">your lips were little by little closer to
mine</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">closer to mine, that was the Hope.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">The hope has gone with you,</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">away. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Your hope has plunged mine into despair</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB">and mine has done so with yours. </span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB">My hope is not crying any more</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">My hope has still hope</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">But it has gone </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">I don’t know where. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Shall I go out there and look for it? </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">I hope there is a hope looking out for me
out there as well.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Our hands melted </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">and we almost kissed, but no</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">it was only a hope. </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">But she comes and goes,</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Like the sun, like feelings </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">immersed in nature </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">Hope is the circle of life, </span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB">surrounded by circumstances. </span><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-69499036155626716262013-10-23T02:22:00.001+02:002013-10-23T02:22:21.528+02:00IS THERE A CORRECT WAY OF READING “GOTHIC FICTION”?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If you
think that gothic writers have to be careful, I do not know whether you are
right or wrong. Gothic writing poses two controversial issues: the language vs.
the content, and the function vs. the form. To me, in gothic narratives as in many others, language would be
equal to the function each linguistic sign has one after another, whereas
content would be the form we give to the gothic narrative after having seen all
the functions that the language, we are reading, has built through the text. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This issue
may seem to be simple, nonetheless it is rather problematic. Is there harmony
between form and content in the gothic narrative? Or is the form against the
content? Well, if one speaks from a formal point of view, there must be
coherence between both since we need a beginning, followed by a liminal part leading
up to the end of the story, (all covered by a plot). In this sense, so to speak, our
expectations perfectly fit within the belief that there is harmony, or a kind
of balance, between form and function. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">However,
the gothic narrative will always have an element of “otherness”. And it is the otherness
what makes the text “gothic”. Do we have a cause and an effect? Of course we
do. From the very beginning that the narrative starts (x = cause), it may
multiply the narrative space (x1, x2, x3 …) and Y would be “the effect”. Would
be these lasts concepts equal to the form that we give to the story we are
reading? Would they overlap with the function of it? I actually believe that
one cannot be read without the reading of the other and vice versa. There is no form if there are no functions and there is no effect if there are no causes. We should read between the
lines of the narrative when reading gothic. Its otherness is what we may call
the unknown. The unknown is what leads us to the mystical, to the endless
circle of the terror and the horror of the gothic text. And it is the otherness of some characters in the gothic that we do not know when it is going to end. In this sense, there must be a lack of cause but not of effect since we do not know why the ghost is always scaring people. We are only conscious of the effect but not of its origins. From this point of view, one could say that the gothic claims the presence of a missing element within the narrative. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In a nutshell, how
should be the gothic genre read in terms of rationality? This problematic
question can lead us to infite problematic answers. The point one should
make when talking about gothic is more a matter of “why” rather than “when or
where”. We already know when the action takes place, or where it occurs but not
why. We may not be able to give a specific answer to “why some characters are
trapped in the same circle always and forever”. We should be rational about our
analysis, if we speak about structure (also from Propp’s view), but we may be illogic
when talking about why ghosts are trapped in eternity.There is no why if there is no "where" and "when" and there is no "where" neither "when" if there is no why. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-76584018224210522562013-08-25T19:15:00.004+02:002013-08-27T19:55:25.351+02:00Romanticismo El ser humano es complejo y multifuncional. Somos el resultado de una historia que no sabremos con certeza alguna, para ser concreta, nunca. Historia que se puede interpretar desde un punto de vista matemático o, en su defecto, básicamente estructural. Somos una variedad dentro de la variedad. Así pues, la diversidad en todos los sentidos también se aplica al romanticismo, y no hablo de romanticismo de amor sino del movimiento cultural y político de finales del siglo xviii. <br />
<br />
Tomando otro punto de vista, llamémosle a la vida cuerpo y a las personas células, ya que somos multifuncionales, porque somos nosotros los humanos la unidad de mayor tamaño que pueda considerarse viva de nuestra especie. Por esa regla de tres aplicada a la diversidad y a la variedad, deberíamos de tomarnos la vida con filosofía. La filosofía romántica es aquella en la que, desde mi punto de vista, -y aquí expongo mi teoría-, se basa en la libertad de seguir buscando constantemente nuevas formas de vida, puntos de vista, y así sucesivamente incluyendo todo tipo de conceptos desde el dolor hasta el amor. Dicha filosofía se desentiende de los estereotipos y clacisismos, y enfatiza los sentimientos. <br />
<br />
El sentimiento de un ser humano es lo más importante que hay que tener en cuenta a la hora de analizar el comportamiento del mismo. Es decir, un ser humano que analiza a otro lo hace a través de sentimientos, y a veces (no siempre) desde una filosofía romántica. Cabe decir que el tener un punto de vista romántico no tiene nada que ver con el amor o similares. Puede construirse en su base, pero no van de la mano. Todo está conectado, unas cosas con otras y todo con todo pero a la vez con nada. Por ese mismo motivo es el que debemos de adoptar ciertos puntos de vista, para así comprender más, aprender más y sentirse día a día mejor. Adoptar una filosofía de vida romántica puede ser mucho más sano y productivo que adoptar una filosofía de vida ignorante. Tendríamos que guiarnos de ese camino al que nos lleva la filosofía romántica, y si es hacia el incorrecto mejor, para así cuantas más veces pasemos por lo incorrecto más preparados llegaremos a lo correcto, con más ganas y más fuerza. Siempre es bueno tener algo presente y es que la perfección no es reina de nada en esta filosofía. La perfección al 100% no existe y jamás lo hara. La simpleza es la mejor perfección, a pesar de formar parte de la complejidad del ser humano. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-5171942232628510322013-07-22T19:42:00.002+02:002013-07-22T19:52:50.007+02:00The energy of a soulThere is always something to think about. The more you think about it, the more it will become true. It is like a dream.<br />
<br />
We never think about doing it for no reason. We are always seeking for many reasons to do it but what you do not know is that the less you think about a reason the better we will do it. If you do not believe me, just try it. Reasons are out there waiting for us to be found, but they are like evergreen trees. They never disappear. And it is that force of energy that makes them stay. Because if a soul has energy, the soul will definitely make it happen.<br />
<br />
We are afraid of facts, unlike Dickens: <i>‘NOW, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing<br />but Facts. Facts alone are wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up these children. Stick to Facts, sir!’. </i>Moreover, he stated that in <i>The One Thing Needful</i> in <i>Hard Times </i>and I strongly hold his view because facts are needful. Humans need facts to do things, not reasons. If we made it happen because of one reason there would be hundreds facts out there waiting to be analyzed. That is the reason why one does not need a reason for doing something but energy. The energy works without reasons but with facts. And that energy is inside you. You are the one in control of your energy, because humans are doomed to it. <br />
<br />
And to make matters worse, the fact will become definitely true when naked. Make it with passion and love.<br />
<br />
A naked soul is the spirit of life.<br />
<br />
And for no reason.<br />
<br />
Just try to do it.<br />
<br />
Then tell me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-86015839381402635202013-05-29T18:07:00.001+02:002013-05-29T18:10:45.433+02:00Half-Naked Man Lying on a Wood in London<i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></i><br />
<div style="direction: ltr; language: es; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-top: 0pt; mso-line-break-override: none; punctuation-wrap: hanging; text-align: left; unicode-bidi: embed; word-break: normal;">
<i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">I </span></span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal;">decided to draw this scene which I
must call: Half-Naked Man Lying on a Wood in London</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic;">. </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">The</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> quotes are taken from Thomas Hobbes </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Leviathan </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Chapter XIII on the Nature </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">of mankind as concerning their felicity and misery</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">. If you follow my blog, you will know that I strongly support the idea of man as a selfish creature corrupted by society. That's why I, suddenly inspired, took a pen and let imagination play its role. </span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">
</span></span></i></div>
<i>
</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal;">"Nature hath made
men so equal in the faculties of body and mind as that, though there be found
one man sometimes manifestly stronger in body or of quicker mind than another,
yet when all is reckoned together the difference between man and man is not so
considerable as that one man can thereupon claim to himself any benefit to
which another may not pretend as well as he. For as to the strength of body,
the weakest has strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret
machination or by confederacy with others that are in the same danger with
himself" </span></span><i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_UdGCWm7kKOg5yPsAGG7NIKKwKutrUJEiTlX90W02VTaQg8bX7jRHisZy9wSurhV37IuVgz2TPVSrmcjna_wMoc5xOjtADvqIdahA0FJxWSvIi0XbZEtZGidWDNq6s7wYTp7Qd9Ivo7y/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj_UdGCWm7kKOg5yPsAGG7NIKKwKutrUJEiTlX90W02VTaQg8bX7jRHisZy9wSurhV37IuVgz2TPVSrmcjna_wMoc5xOjtADvqIdahA0FJxWSvIi0XbZEtZGidWDNq6s7wYTp7Qd9Ivo7y/s640/photo.JPG" width="640" /></a></i></div>
<br />
<i>"The
passions that incline men to peace are: fear of death; desire of such
things as are necessary to commodious living; and a hope by their
industry to obt<i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">ain them"</span></i></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></i><br />
<i> </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-51181718019556552152013-05-29T02:35:00.003+02:002013-05-29T02:35:54.962+02:00We are like books<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]--><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Some of us are
born romantic, some achieve romanticism, and some have romanticism trust upon
them. <span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">The true love
is felt. It does matter if he or she is talking to somebody else. You won’t
feel jealous but happy. You will feel complete. That is called true real love. And
I still believe in love. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">Love is either
everything or nothing. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">When someone
feels love, they feel at a stage of exultant happiness. </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">If a soul loves you, </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">just kiss</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">and love </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">If a soul loves you,</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">feel the power</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">share the force </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">If a soul loves you,</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">hug them</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">and accompany them </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">because </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<br />
<h1 class="quoteText" style="background-color: white; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>“If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but the one who causes the darkness<span style="color: #181818;">"</span></i><span style="color: #181818;"> by Vic<span style="color: #181818;">tor Hugo<span style="color: #181818;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="color: #181818;"><span style="color: #181818;">in <i>Les Miserables.</i></span></span></span><i><span style="color: #181818;"><br /></span></i></span></span></h1>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">“Some texts are born
literary, some achieve literariness, and some have literariness thrust upon
them.<span> </span>Breeding in this respect may count
for a good deal more than birth” </span></i><span lang="EN-US" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% white; color: #333333; line-height: 115%;">from Terry Eagleton, <i>Literary
Theory, </i>pp. 7-8</span></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-44408486370858922732013-05-25T18:27:00.000+02:002013-05-25T18:27:14.874+02:00On "The Importance of Being Earnest"
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><em>“The
Importance of Being Earnest”</em> (fig. </span><span style="mso-ansi-language: ES;">La
importancia de llamarse honesto)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Wilde uses
a pun of words for the title of his “sentimental comedy”. Shall we call it “The
importance of being ERNEST”? A bunch of critics (including me) have pointed out
that the title of Wilde’s play gives us the key to success (and to understand
it). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This comedy
of manners reveals a side of life: “nature and the human being” I would say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It would be
easier for those who have read the play to understand me. Jack Worthing (is he
worth it?). He is the pivotal figure in the play and he pretends to be what he
is not. Why does Gwendolen only want to marry a man called “Ernest”? Do you
understand it? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Me neither.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When we
humans pretend to plan things, it will all end up being a failure. The
importance of be called Ernest will have its consequences. Being coherent is
difficult because sometimes we will lie if we really want to achieve our goals.
However, Wilde’s satirical hypocrisy (Jack Worthing pretending to be Ernest not
Earnest) is not the role that one should play in their lives. So <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">being earnest</i> has its merit. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Nature […] immersed in its necessary work”</i>
(quote that comes to mind, if I remember well from a Sadaat Hasan Manto’s short
sotry) will always work the same. I mean society is revolution and man is
selfish by nature (Hobbes). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If I were
Gwendolen I wouldn’t care. I would appreciate the fact that HE has tried to
pretend being Ernest because of me. Real love only happens once. When a soul
feels real love it is because there are no worries, no more things to worry
about. It doesn’t matter what the other soul does because you know that he will
be yours inside freedom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“I hope you have not been leading a double life,
pretending to be wicked, and being really good all the time. That would be
hypocrisy</span>” </i></b><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Oscar
Wilde, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Importance of being Earnest. <o:p></o:p></i></span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">REAL LOVE
in days to come. </span></b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-70107815011642452882013-05-19T01:49:00.001+02:002013-05-22T21:39:12.271+02:00MEET ME <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.75pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; tab-stops: 45.8pt 91.6pt 137.4pt 183.2pt 229.0pt 274.8pt 320.6pt 366.4pt 412.2pt 458.0pt 503.8pt 549.6pt 595.4pt 641.2pt 687.0pt 732.8pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">This is the first time that I
don’t know how to begin writing. These words come from the deepest of my soul.
These words are for those ones who truly appreciate them.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br />
Some of us pass the time complaining, feeling envy for the other, being selfish
or hypocrite... It is hard to realize that the human being is self-interested
by nature. Some of us spend our time fighting with others. Some of us are
violent (I am standing on the corner of a street and watching two men fighting
and the police intervening) I wonder where does the love lie? Where do we,
human beings, hide our real love?<br />
<br />
Some of us only care about appearances and beauty. Some of us are superficial.
Why do boys only ask me for going out to posh night clubs instead of going to a
library? Am I an object for them? What do they pretend? It is sad the fact of realizing
how males and females behave nowadays. I am really fed up of receiving loads of
whatsapp messages from different boys but with the same content: "you out
tonight? Come to X(whatever)" instead of "fancy a talk?, fancy a
beer?, fancy a walk?" Where are the gents? Where are the ladies? Where are
your intellects? I guess that the fact of feeling yourself unused or wasted in
the sense that you don’t find what you want and anyone finds you is an ordinary
thing nowadays. Maybe, the ones who we don’t
pay attention to are the ones for us. And, the ones who ignore and hurt us (the
ones who we inevitably want) are the ones who we MUST ignore. Sometimes, in
life, reason is a complement for love. And using your intellect won’t hurt you.
Creating a balance between reason and feelings must be a MUST.<br />
<br />
Who cares about the fake boobs of the girl sitting in front of me right now?
Who cares about that guy next to this bus driving a Ferrari or wearing a Louis Vuitton
t-shirt? Those things are amongst the most esteemed features in society
nowadays. And that is the pity. We only see through the eyes and, sometimes,
forget that we can also see through the heart.<br />
<br />
Some of us are cruel. Some of us take advantage of the situation, laugh at
others and insult them simply because they are not beautiful or skinny enough. And
life's rules cannot be played like this. Some of us are rude. Some of us don’t realize
what we have until we lose it. And that is the pure and simple truth. The truth
is that today we are here, and tomorrow we may not. Two young souls died
yesterday in the city where I come from and I still don’t believe it. Life is
so cruel sometimes for no reason. And I will always wonder… but why? The
saddest thing is that we temporarily realize the value of life when these
things happen. Then we forget. Sad. Very sad. We should know that we all posses
the most expensive, valuable and exquisite thing… and it is LIFE itself.<br />
<br />
My journey in this bus ends (I am happy to see this couple kissing with such
passion) and getting off it I walk home thinking about the real truth of life.
How can we find it? Where is the path to it? </span><span lang="EN-GB">There
are no paths to find the real truth because the truth is constructed little by
little and day by day. It is a complement of our lives since each individual
has a particular truth. The truth is singular. And reality varies from one’s
eyes to other’s eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">And now, once my journey is finished and you met myself a little bit more, I am lying on my
bed... thinking that some of us are good. Some of us are wonderful. Some of us
(maybe you) pass our time laughing, smiling and being happy. Some of us help the other
and take care of our friends and family day by day. Some of us do not mind
about that fat boy or girl and think that we could be in love with him or her
(in fact I was). Because anyway... you will be in love with a soul and not with
a body. And, I must admit that harmony can be perfectly felt this way because I
experienced it. Remember that your reality varies from other’s one. Some of us live in peace. Some of us are tolerant. Some of us still believe in love... because me, after all, I still believe in love. I am grateful, at the age of 23, of being where I am right now and writing this text for you all. I am extremelly grateful to my family, specially to my parents, for giving me the opportunity of bringing me into this wonderful world and teaching me the value of things. Always forgive your enemies, and remember LIFE is gold, appreciate it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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Thanks for reading. Love you all. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-73794362078920042112013-05-14T13:12:00.000+02:002013-05-19T01:05:08.557+02:00On love<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Do you
believe that love is found by means of reason (fatalistic view)? Or do you
think that it is found by chance? Give me your hypothesis and let's get to the thesis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I've been trying to analyse from many perspectives what love is or should be. We attempt to idealise the concept of love quite often. When we idealise something we (somehow) ignore the consequences of it. This is the reason why some of us fall in love so quickly, but it is good. The ones who fall in love too fast are the ones who get to know who they are. This way, knowledge is a complement of love. It creates balance between the ideal conceptualisation of love and the real one. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">To my mind, love can be found either my means of reason or by means of chance. So I made a list of what I consider love involves. For my analysis i've read some ideas of such philosphers as Plato and Ortega y Gasset, among others. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">1. Love as a
path to find your goal<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">2. Love as a
force of chaos that transforms everything</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">3. Love as a
metamorphosis <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">4. Love as a
rational process <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">5. Love as
an accident <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">6. Love as a
perfect idealisation of beauty <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">7. Love as a
sexual act (Ortega)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">8. Love as
charm <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">9. Love as a
mental status of misery in which the conscience will be impoverished and
paralyzed (Ortega) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">10. Love as a
naked manifestation of the self<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">11. Love as an
intimate process to discover one’s self <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">12. Love is
two-sided: real and imaginary<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">13. Love as an aesthetic admiration<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">14. I believe
that love is everything and, at the same time, nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">15. Love as a
divine invention that conserves the beauty of nature<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">16. Love is
harmony. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally, love will always involve more than one subject. In other words, there must be at least two people performing love. If there are more than two people the situation changes and we would be talking about Shakespearean love triangular relationships, in which corruption would be a counter part (Thomas Hobbes). </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Love is a mixture of the ideal and the real. Things
are more probable than improbable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDGiFTqya1MnDzEeDhYQK0Uj_SpLYD68J71AUZs_exBTUae8zRKtbPhwErcPydkoZRIASv4Njw2DIXiijj3D26DhtL11H7dJGFqKmpEr7IZuDin0110CWwlxZPw1LPUaLo87p3541q4gz/s1600/380940_10200994802969636_1968016409_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgDGiFTqya1MnDzEeDhYQK0Uj_SpLYD68J71AUZs_exBTUae8zRKtbPhwErcPydkoZRIASv4Njw2DIXiijj3D26DhtL11H7dJGFqKmpEr7IZuDin0110CWwlxZPw1LPUaLo87p3541q4gz/s320/380940_10200994802969636_1968016409_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
Photo by Marcos Domingo Sánchez<br />
Model: Pedro Jiménez </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-89047656029126515832013-05-12T15:49:00.000+02:002013-05-14T12:26:00.573+02:00The one <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The source
of inspiration of the following extract is “<i>Fatso</i>”, a short story, written by
Etgar Keret. </span><span lang="EN-US">For those who haven´t read it this is the link to the narrative</span><span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://stuyww.weebly.com/uploads/1/4/0/6/14065772/etgar_keret_fatso.pdf">http://stuyww.weebly.com/uploads/1/4/0/6/14065772/etgar_keret_fatso.pdf</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">There is life. And, there is us. Where is
your man? Where is your woman? On the globe. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">If you are seeking for a partner, stop
seeking. Your partner is not going to appear now. Maybe he is out there waiting
for you. Maybe he is next to you now. Maybe he is reading what i am writing
now. Maybe you are my partner (sorry, my future partner). But I say maybe.
MAYBE. And, only maybe, I am and will be yours. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The real love (in days to come) is that
made up of no words. There are neither sentences nor verbal expressions to
describe what real love is. I guess we are all looking for something similar to
fill the gap. So, mind the gap please. Have you ever heard that recorded woman
saying “mind the gap please, between the train and the platform”? Maybe she is
the one. Or maybe not, who knows. So if you have the opportunity to meet her,
please do it and mind the gap. Maybe my one is the randomer who bombarded me with strange questions at 5am on my way back home and terrified me. Maybe the fact that I saw the same randomer three times in the same place means that he is the one. Quizás si, quizás no. Todo es cuestión de plantearselo.</span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, bromas a parte. <span lang="EN-US">A sí que bueno... the thing that I
want to make clear is that the other is not there to fill our emptiness. The
other is there as a complement and the relationship between you and the other will be bidirectional. Maybe you don´t find the love of your life, or
maybe the love of your life is right there standing next to your soul, your
writings, your smiles, your creativity. Also, you may think that the love of
your life doesn’t exist. Me I do. I believe in the real love. Do you know why? Because
when someone has accumulated love inside… it is impossible not to believe in
love. You will always be somebody for someone. The key issue here is
exploration. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">If you
think that person is the one, who you already know and who is not yours but was,
that person is not the one. The feeling will come. The love will come. Your beloved will come. My love will come. If
everything was failure, think that it wasn’t a failure at all (call it unsuccessful attempt). Think that you
learned something good about the bad. The day has 24 hours. You have to make it
have 48. And make two days of one. And the situation will change. In these 48
hours you will explore as much as you can to find your reason; the reason why
you made the day to have 48 hours instead of 24. Two days, two people. And the
situation will change: <i>“And so it goes:
every night you fall asleep with him struggling to stay awake for the
Argentinian finals, and in the morning, there is she, the beautiful, forgiving
woman who you love, too, till it hurts”</i>. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US">"Nothing ventured, nothing gained"</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-51002269859060175832013-05-12T12:22:00.000+02:002013-05-15T16:06:34.693+02:00We see through art.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9jvkn3U_4B_MU2BQQkHS0K5Musx5g_LBDrhmy2qo0Mpw5KBe_7xHUC7rQg0Mf0rhbwvR9460uKnikXIlTV8rskIaYXPShpoUmTRYPNGtV-IDiqHma3GEZxsmPodbJ-Ou5RW2NgO3xAyp/s1600/601282_10200723039255713_107233831_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx9jvkn3U_4B_MU2BQQkHS0K5Musx5g_LBDrhmy2qo0Mpw5KBe_7xHUC7rQg0Mf0rhbwvR9460uKnikXIlTV8rskIaYXPShpoUmTRYPNGtV-IDiqHma3GEZxsmPodbJ-Ou5RW2NgO3xAyp/s320/601282_10200723039255713_107233831_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Photo by Marcos Domingo Sánchez<br />
Model: Pedro Jiménez<br />
<br />
Art is a form for understanding the world and its components.<br />
<br />
The forms of art are infinite. All of us play important roles within society but some perform our own plays.<br />
Sometimes we do not distinguish between reality and illusion. This is the reason why the ones who perform their own play are still quite alive.<br />
<br />
The performance involves several processes: the social, the historical, the geographical, the intellectual, the economic, the political and, the most important one, THE CREATIVE. All of them will always be present. However the creative can be absent somehow. Not every human being is able to create (in spite of human's ability to create) because not everyone develops the skill of creating as a component part to be alive in the globe.<br />
<br />
Sometimes one has to wear a mask... however it should not be worn. Masks are liars and lies are not good. The only reason why you should wear a mask would be as a mode of defense (to defend yourself), but without losing your judgement.<br />
<br />
The magic of the moment will last forever once you take your mask off and create. And, never ever, attempt to impress others on purpose because it is ridiculous. If you want to be a functional intellect on stage, play fair.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-37165092519485791542013-05-09T01:31:00.005+02:002013-05-12T11:40:47.711+02:00The problems of saying NO. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">The denial
of negation is a problem. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">When you
say “no” you are losing. The path to the unknown now is closed for you. In
order to say no, you first need to try it and once you know how it is say NO.
If you are not able to say NO, it is because you like it and if you like it you
have a serious problem. Where does this problem come from? It comes from your
unconscious since you have denied something you (NOW) like. Why did you say no? Because
you did not know about it. If you had known how it is you probably won´t say
no. So, this is the reason why one never should say NO. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">If you are clever enough, never say no. The door must be always opened. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">If you do not try, other will try for you... and always the same. We will be always followed by somebody ready to say YES. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US">Yes represents optimism. No, for instance, shows total negation. So the path you choose is the response you will get in your life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reality is behind's ones mind, not in front of one's eye. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-161213688263293710.post-42893676899782828402013-05-06T13:07:00.001+02:002014-06-23T16:27:37.792+02:00On “Everything and Nothing” Jorge Luis Borges<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJBVC-MkmZ_7osmwF3-lz4_w0Um09_lXN4JUEcM7TbxpUd91yEQr6RdGxw7FtxTZR9XPoyZ0CrJXz1w8CIzkjwR-k6dK355b31nMhAsG9aBPjZug8FDhNicDD18dP-2nFoSukGsmkZqbJ/s1600/923431_10200994802289619_1032855962_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJBVC-MkmZ_7osmwF3-lz4_w0Um09_lXN4JUEcM7TbxpUd91yEQr6RdGxw7FtxTZR9XPoyZ0CrJXz1w8CIzkjwR-k6dK355b31nMhAsG9aBPjZug8FDhNicDD18dP-2nFoSukGsmkZqbJ/s320/923431_10200994802289619_1032855962_n.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Photo by Marcos Domingo Sánchez </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Model: Pedro Jiménez </span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span><br /></div>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span lang="EN-US">“</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;">There was no one in him; behind his face (which even in the poor
paintings of the period is unlike any other) and his words, which were copious,
imaginative, and emotional, there was nothing but a little chill, a dream not
dreamed by anyone</span>”</span></span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">“That same day he disposed of his theater. Before a
week was out he had returned to the village of his birth, where he recovered
the trees and the river of his childhood; and he did not bind them to those
others his muse had celebrated, those made illustrious by mythological
allusions and Latin phrases”<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">“[...] he found himself before God and he said: “I,
who have been so many men in vain, want to be one man: myself.” The voice of
God replied from a whirlwind: “Neither am I oneself; I dreamed the world as you
dreamed your work, my Shakespeare, and among the shapes of my dream are you,
who, like me, are many persons—and none.”</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">The unnamed
man is now many-sided. He has no name, because he has no fixed identity. But he
is, in fact, one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Borges’
writing shows a sense of oneness by portraying a man who actually is not a man. And when
a man does not consider himself a man, there are problems. The self, the
soul, the mind, or in other words, one’s identity must be fed by
self-confidence and reason. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;"><span lang="EN-US">Is Borges
writing from an autobiographical perspective? Well, if one takes into account
the fact that he was considered to be a modern symbolist we could say: maybe
yes, he is. Symbolists sought for absolute truth. The impact of the modern world, however, <span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">had not only changed </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">psychology, physics and
technology but also literature and rejected (not all of them) religious thinking. The modern world was especially challenging in
terms of socio-political issues.</span> In this sense, when “</span><i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;">he
had returned to the village of his birth”</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"> searching for the truth out there in nature, the
unnamed man could be said to be a romantic self immersed in nature, where melancholic
childhood reigns. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">God is <i>“Everything”</i> but at the same time <i>“nothing”</i>. For those who believe in God,
me I do, we cannot see him but our faith is still there. He is not visible, so
he is nothing. He is God, so he is everything. He is like that unnamed man
Borges is talking about, a man whose masks are infinite but whose self does not
exist. Is that possible? <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">Is Borges, -like
the Irish Joyce did in <i>A portrait of the
artist as a young man-</i>, trying to pose a theory of art in which he places God
at the same status than the unnamed man? God asks the unnamed man not to
complain because he is “<i>many persons—and
none”. </i>In my opinion, Borges theory of art is that of the symbolists writers, that in which truth can only be described as an indirect object from an indirect perspective. The Gods are indirectly visible. We know of their existence but never saw them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="background: white;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Thanks for reading.</span> </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06345795713391867918noreply@blogger.com0