Ni ella ni yo pensamos disculparnos por nuestras palabras. No se disculpa el sol aunque queme ni la luna aunque en ocasiones aterre. Yo amo, todo aquello que pueda ser amable, y como me rehúso a esconderme, he aquí mi escape.

24 ene. 2014


Then it's music.
It plays and beats
as thousands of hearts would.
It cries and sounds and makes it all brand new.


Having known what was all about, would you have ever let it start?
Would you have changed music for an unknown destiny that doesn't even warm up your heart?
And if so, would you have let it get through your skin?
That's just the easiest part,
the fastest part,
a party of sounds where nothing makes any sense at all.
But it flows, like tides, just a wave carrying you away with its force, with its strenght. 
Let it carry you away.



See them walking, strangers on a web.
See them asking "would you stay?"
See them running through the maze,
lost to the outside.
See them lost in a world whose language they don't know.
See them going around with nothing but thoughts of rush.
See them smiling while they look around for something to call them out.
See them going aroung to find something to light them up.
See them, they're all different, strangers, they're all souls that can not find a place.
"Would they know?", you wonder, as if it was any of your business. Can't help it. 
See, they do not know but they do not not know. How do you explain the strange phenomenon that gives them an extensive knowledge about everything around but makes them so blind when it comes to themselves?
And their shirts, their books, they all carry deeply inspired phrases to make them feel like they really do search about what's else, and still they don't even read them. 
Oh, they know the letters, they can tell the words, but they can't tell what those words mean in the deepest.
The real truth of those words goes unknown for them.
I ain't good at waiting. Because then I said I didn't want to change. Because if you let me go on about something for a while I'll get lost.
And I'm not exactly tired of being lost, I'm tired of the loneliness it carries.

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Deja que tus gritos también sean llevados por el viento.