The mark of the past

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. 

• Tell me, have you ever thought of the past? 
• Are you interested in my thinking of the past  ..... (Silence)
• Yes, I am. Very much so, indeed. 
• And, what do you think? 
• Sometimes I think about when I was nothing. We were dust that belonged to the future. And you? Do you think about the past?
• I have never had such an idea in mind. I don't even know what the past is. 
• If it had not been for that danaus chrysippus, you would be still thinking of the past. 
• How do you know it? It was so beautiful and colourful, but ephemeral. 
• 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? 

• I don't know what you are talking about
• The horse, yes! the horse. An L shaped horse. Jack mate. 
• 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.
• 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.
• How long does a snail last?
• About 25 years, not as long as the butterfly. You remember?
• 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!
• 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. 
• Why?
• Because he would have died. Also, snails do not stop in ever-fixed points.
• So, would you dare to do it? 
• Maybe
• (Silence)
• Don't you wanna ask anything else?
• Gonna go to bed, you remember? 
• What?
• 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? 
• He is not going to stop. He will never do it. 
• But, it lasts 25 years, doesn't it? 
• 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. 
• It’s okay then. Let’s go to bed. 

I was inspired in Virginia Woolf’s Kew Gardens, a magnificent short story full of conceits, metaphors and love. 

Vestigio en el olvido

Algunas 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.

- Dime, ¿has pensado alguna vez en el pasado?

- ¿Te interesa si pienso en el pasado?

- Silencio.

- Pues si. Lo hago a menudo.

- Y, ¿qué piensas?

- En cuando no era nada. Éramos el polvo del futuro. Y tu, ¿piensas en el pasado?

- Nunca he tenido esa idea en la cabeza. Ni siquiera sé lo que es el pasado.

- Si no hubiese sido por esa danaus chrysippus aún estarías pensando en el pasado.

- ¿Cómo lo sabes? Era tan bonita, colorida y efímera.

- ¡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?

- No se de qué me hablas.

- El caballo, en forma de ele. Jaque mate.

- 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.

- Si hubiese recordado el pasado fuera del futuro, no sabría describirlo ahora. Ni siquiera el caracol seguiría caminando.

- ¿Cuánto dura un caracol?

- Unos 25 años, no tanto como la mariposa. ¿Te acuerdas?

- No, no me acuerdo. La mariposa, no era una mariposa era una libélula. ¡Ves!, la que no te acuerdas eres tu.

- 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 estabas a punto de cogerlo, habría sido como darle azúcar -o incluso sal-.

- ¿Por qué?

- Porque hubiese muerto. Los caracoles no ejercen fuerza sobre puntos concretos.

- Entonces, ¿te arriesgarías?

- Quizás

- Silencio.

- ¿Ya no preguntas?

- Me voy a la cama, ¿te acuerdas?

- ¿De que?

- 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. Jaque mate. Y, bueno, ¿que hacemos hasta que el caracol pare?

- No va a parar, jamás lo hará.

- Pero, ¿no duraba 25 años?

- Este no, este dura lo que nosotros duremos. Cuando tu dejes de preguntarme y yo de recordarte, entonces parará.

- Me parece bien. Vámonos a la cama.


Inspirada en Virginia Woolf "Kew Gardens"

He & she

He looked at her, she was staring at him for a minute or so and then it stopped, he smiled. 

It had been happening for three days in a row. Then it stopped again. 

They could perfectly understand each other. His eyes were full of passion, hers were more kind of doubtful. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

They never let go of each other's hands

Bucket list

1. Learn to be patient
2. Understand love
3. Become a professor
4. Spend a sabbatical year out
5. You
6. Live in the USA
7. Write a novel
8. Run my own business
9. Develop my own theory on selfishness & human interests
10. Become a grandma
11. Travel around the world
12. Swim naked in the Atlantic Ocean
13. Go to Las Vegas

Don't let it go

“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. 

“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.

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. 

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.

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. 

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. 

Speechless but passionate

¿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. 

Getting to know happiness

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. 

My life, my path, my purpose. That feeling of actually chasing it. 

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. 

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.

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. 

And suddenly you sit down in a different seat at the train coach and then find the answer. 

Te dejaste ir

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. 

Chatting to life

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. 

Odio los túneles

No sabes porqué pero sientes alivio
You take it for granted that it is going to happen, but have no idea about when
Mil mariposas recorren tu alma y
Luchan contra esas serpientes que intentan apoderarse de tu cuerpo

Ves caras, ves cosas, ves mundo
y ese sentimiento vuelve a aparecer
piensas,
llegas a la conclusión de que todo es nada,
y solo lo que no puedes ver es algo.

Estar sentado en una nube
mientras contemplas al mundo
es bonito,
pero para hacer eso primero hay que estar vivo
y, luego hay que sentir.

WE

It is when his spirit emerges from the shadow of the forgotten soul..

that I, now a woman still in love with him, fantasize.

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..?

Little did I imagine how identified I was gonna feel with his writings and intellect.

It doesn’t matter how much time do I spend on thinking about that product of the imagination that I will never forget him.

Is it possible to feel that person next to you by reading his thoughts even being hundred miles away from him?

I wonder whether this feeling of uncertainty will cease...  whether it will become true or not. “What you think, you become” said Buddha but... to what extent may I ask?

I can feel his mind melted in mine... it is still difficult however.

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. 

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. 

Sometimes I think if I shall do something, (no, that's too simple i guess)

sometimes I think that forced things are too unnatural to be done.

Then, I remember that what we imagine is real and real things are possible and, thus, probable. 

I prefer to let life act upon its course and she will be the one to decide, not me. 

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.

Realidad cruel

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

¿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 "The Passions and the Interests" 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.

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.

Thingy

 

Where all this hope has gone?
Was it hope?
It has left me in doubt
The air was passing through our mouths
your lips were little by little closer to mine
closer to mine, that was the Hope.

The hope has gone with you,
away.
Your hope has plunged mine into despair

and mine has done so with yours.

My hope is not crying any more
My hope has still hope
But it has gone
I don’t know where.
Shall I go out there and look for it?
I hope there is a hope looking out for me out there as well.

Our hands melted
and we almost kissed, but no
it was only a hope.
But she comes and goes,
Like the sun, like feelings
immersed in nature

Hope is the circle of life,
surrounded by circumstances.

IS THERE A CORRECT WAY OF READING “GOTHIC FICTION”?

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. 

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. 

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.

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.

                                                                                                                            

Romanticismo

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.

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.

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.

The energy of a soul

There is always something to think about. The more you think about it, the more it will become true. It is like a dream.

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.

We are afraid of facts, unlike Dickens: ‘NOW, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing
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!’. Moreover, he stated that in The One Thing Needful in Hard Times 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.

And to make matters worse, the fact will become definitely true when naked. Make it with passion and love.

A naked soul is the spirit of life.

And for no reason.

Just try to do it.

Then tell me.

Half-Naked Man Lying on a Wood in London

I decided to draw this scene which I must call: Half-Naked Man Lying on a Wood in London. The quotes are taken from Thomas Hobbes Leviathan Chapter XIII on the Nature of mankind as concerning their felicity and misery. 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. 

"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"

"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 obtain them"

We are like books

Some of us are born romantic, some achieve romanticism, and some have romanticism trust upon them. 

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. 

Love is either everything or nothing. 

When someone feels love, they feel at a stage of exultant happiness. 

If a soul loves you, 

just kiss

and love 

If a soul loves you,

feel the power

share the force 

If a soul loves you,

hug them

and accompany them 

because 

“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" by Victor Hugo in Les Miserables.

“Some texts are born literary, some achieve literariness, and some have literariness thrust upon them.  Breeding in this respect may count for a good deal more than birth” from Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory, pp. 7-8