Oct
18
Çarpo
La mano me esta matando, el duende ya ni me habla, las palabras se me olvidan, la gramatica se transmutó. Y ahora soy yo.
Where To Head?
Oct
9
In front of Me
In front of me three rivers slowly flow, patiently waiting to merge into the sea. Three streams of worry also run over my chest. The clean substance of which they’re made becomes dark when I think of something mundane, or everytime I go out to the street. But, contrary to the movement of the first three, the latter mentioned flow upwards, climbing up the hills, and carrying the dust and sand and stones to the places they’d belonged when I was born. These three forces sculpt me, sometimes gently, sometimes not quite. They direct my feelings and leave a wound wherever they go, whether it is to my ears, my lungs or my eyes.
Aug
1
Drunken flatmates.
When you feel like shit, you realise there’s someone worse than you.
Jun
7
Ask yourself: Is THIS why I am here? To turn a dollar from the sweat of my brow, so as to afford to keep the sun from my back, the rain from my head? Here I am, here to watch the daytime television, to buy the designer clothes, to consume industry-approved placation after placation? No. I believe There is more, and more still.
May
21
This is how my name looks like in Ancient Egyptian Language. Taken in Brighton, in the Pavilion Museum.
May
17
These guys were trying to take this sofa out of the window. There was a bunch of people on the pavement -most of them were tourists- amused by the scene.
← Older Posts
Page 1 of 2
