Saturday, July 18, 2015

18 July 2015 ,memories of Chile

I don't love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,   
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:   
I love you as one loves certain obscure things,   
secretly, between the shadow and the soul. 

I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom but carries   
the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,   
and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose   
from the earth lives dimly in my body. 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,   
I love you directly without problems or pride: 
I love you like this because I don't know any other way to love, 
except in this form in which I am not nor are you,   
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,   
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

Friday, July 17, 2015

17 july,2015. back home In the north,

How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.


Tuesday, July 7, 2015

7 July 2015, El Bolson,Patagonia ,Argentina

The whole of my life
is summed up in these three phrases:
I used to be raw
Then I was cooked
I am on fire.

Don’t leave me raw.

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

July first,Buenos Aires,Argentina

When one is able to overcome the romantic and emotional attitude, one discovers truth even in the kitchen sink.