Sueña... by R1

Johan ha perdido la cuenta de cuantos kilómetros ha caminado ya desde que aterrizo hace más de nueve meses en terra incognita. Lo que sí conoce es una constante en cada uno de esos pasos ademas de los sueños que acarrea sobre sus espaldas. Es ese sonido, que taladra su cabeza y que ya es parte de la banda sonora de su vida. A veces, trata de ahogarlo tan fuerte como puede entre las manos en un inútil intento de escapar de su "sabiduría". Pero es imposible, ese pequeño cascabel de cara camaleonica es como ella, una constante en su vida. Incluso ahora, con miles de kilómetros entre los dos, ha podido escuchar como su (¿de él?, ¿de ella?) corazón se rompía en pedazos. Esta vez no ha sido él , sino otro.
Todas las noches desea que la tierra sea plana y sueña con hacer un pequeño agujero y con que este le llevara al otro lado del mundo, a dónde ella vive. Un alma gentil y suave como el sueño de una noche de verano, una bella mujer con un corazon rebosante de palabras de valor para decir las cosas tal como son.
Johan esta a miles de kilometros y no sabe como arreglar su corazon ni como hacerle recordar a ella cuanto el mundo la quiere. Le faltan las palabras, así que por ahora. Tan sólo, sueña.

Johan has lost count of how many kilometers he has walked since he landed in terra incognita more than nine months ago. What he does know is that constant incessant in each step he does. Like the dream he carries along with him. It is that sound, drilling in his head, a sound that he already considers part of the sound track of his life. Sometimes he tries to silence it as hard as he can within his hands in a futile attempt to escape its "knowledge". But is impossible, that little sleighbell if shifting face, like her, is a constant in his life. Even now, thousands of kilometres away, he has been able to hear her heart shattering. Only this time it was not because of him but someone else.
Each night he wishes that the earth were flat. He dreams that just by doing an small hole this would take him to the other side of the world where she lives. A gentle caring soul like a midsummer night's dream. A beautiful woman with a heart filled with words of courage that make her say things like they truly are.
Johan does not know how to fix her heart nor how to remind her of how much everyone loves her. He lacks the words, so for now. He just, dreams.

Sueña... by [M]

Johan ha perdido la cuenta de cuantos kilómetros ha caminado ya desde que aterrizo hace más de nueve meses en terra incognita. Lo que sí conoce es una constante en cada uno de esos pasos ademas de los sueños que acarrea sobre sus espaldas. Es ese sonido, que taladra su cabeza y que ya es parte de la banda sonora de su vida. A veces, trata de ahogarlo tan fuerte como puede entre las manos en un inútil intento de escapar de su "sabiduría". Pero es imposible, ese pequeño cascabel de cara camaleonica es como ella, una constante en su vida. Incluso ahora, con miles de kilómetros entre los dos, ha podido escuchar como su (¿de él?, ¿de ella?) corazón se rompía en pedazos. Esta vez no ha sido él , sino otro.
Todas las noches desea que la tierra sea plana y sueña con hacer un pequeño agujero y con que este le llevara al otro lado del mundo, a dónde ella vive. Un alma gentil y suave como el sueño de una noche de verano, una bella mujer con un corazon rebosante de palabras de valor para decir las cosas tal como son.
Johan esta a miles de kilometros y no sabe como arreglar su corazon ni como hacerle recordar a ella cuanto el mundo la quiere. Le faltan las palabras, así que por ahora. Tan sólo, sueña.

Johan has lost count of how many kilometers he has walked since he landed in terra incognita more than nine months ago. What he does know is that constant incessant in each step he does. Like the dream he carries along with him. It is that sound, drilling in his head, a sound that he already considers part of the sound track of his life. Sometimes he tries to silence it as hard as he can within his hands in a futile attempt to escape its "knowledge". But is impossible, that little sleighbell if shifting face, like her, is a constant in his life. Even now, thousands of kilometres away, he has been able to hear her heart shattering. Only this time it was not because of him but someone else.
Each night he wishes that the earth were flat. He dreams that just by doing an small hole this would take him to the other side of the world where she lives. A gentle caring soul like a midsummer night's dream. A beautiful woman with a heart filled with words of courage that make her say things like they truly are.
Johan does not know how to fix her heart nor how to remind her of how much everyone loves her. He lacks the words, so for now. He just, dreams.

Walkin'in SoHo by R1

Con las maletas recién deshechas y un pequeño mapa en las manos, se decidió a pasear por el famoso SoHo.

Todo era tan grande como pensaba: las calles anchas donde la gente caminaba ajenas a si era peatonal o no, los edificios grandes y repletos de escaleras de emergencia, las tiendas variopintas donde se mezclaba la crema de cacahuetes con la tortilla de patatas importada.
Tenía una pinta un poco afrancesada con esa boina roja, pero su sueño desde pequeñita era pasear por New York con una boina roja, y ahora que era adulta no iba a romperle el corazón a su parte enana.
Se miraba en los reflejos de los escaparates y sonreía observando a través de los cristales las barberías que hasta ese momento solo había visto en las películas, con su chisme redondo bicolor girando a toda velocidad.

Ya casi eran las ocho, las farolas de Manhattan empezaban a encenderse en ese frío mes de febrero. Fue al cruzar la calle Cincuenta cuando lo vió al otro lado, observando un minúsculo mapa de metro a la luz de su movil.

¿Como era posible? con lo grande que era el mundo... ¿encontrarselo precisamente a él?

Se miraron a los ojos a eso de las siete y cincuenta y dos en la acera de la izquierda de la calle cincuenta y no pudieron evitar sentir en los oídos el latido rompedor de sus corazónes.

El mundo era grande, pero no tanto.


As soon as she unpacked all her luggage she took over her little map and decided to walk along the famous Soho.
Everything was as big as she thought: big wide streets where people walk without paying attention if there was any traffic or not, the big buildings full of emergency stairs, the shops as diverse as their content from peanut butter to imported Spanish omelette...
She had kind of a French look, with her red beret. But her dream since she was a child was to stroll along New York with a red beret. Now as an adult she was not meant to her heart to her younger self.
She stared her reflection as it appeared in the shops showcases. She smiled as she look through the crystal of a barber shop like one she had seen so many times on the movies, with it small multi-colour thingy that was spinning at full speed.

It was almost eight, the streetlights of Manhattan started to get light up the streets in that cold February. She was about to cross the 50th when she saw him on the other side, staring to a tinny subway map lit by his cell phone.

How was that possible? Knowing how big is the world. She had to bump into him?

They look each other in the eye. It was eight to eight en the left side of the 50th St when they could not avoid to hear the deafening sound of each other heart, pumping.

The world was big but not that much.

Walkin'in SoHo by [M]

Con las maletas recién deshechas y un pequeño mapa en las manos, se decidió a pasear por el famoso SoHo.

Todo era tan grande como pensaba: las calles anchas donde la gente caminaba ajenas a si era peatonal o no, los edificios grandes y repletos de escaleras de emergencia, las tiendas variopintas donde se mezclaba la crema de cacahuetes con la tortilla de patatas importada.
Tenía una pinta un poco afrancesada con esa boina roja, pero su sueño desde pequeñita era pasear por New York con una boina roja, y ahora que era adulta no iba a romperle el corazón a su parte enana.
Se miraba en los reflejos de los escaparates y sonreía observando a través de los cristales las barberías que hasta ese momento solo había visto en las películas, con su chisme redondo bicolor girando a toda velocidad.

Ya casi eran las ocho, las farolas de Manhattan empezaban a encenderse en ese frío mes de febrero. Fue al cruzar la calle Cincuenta cuando lo vió al otro lado, observando un minúsculo mapa de metro a la luz de su movil.

¿Como era posible? con lo grande que era el mundo... ¿encontrarselo precisamente a él?

Se miraron a los ojos a eso de las siete y cincuenta y dos en la acera de la izquierda de la calle cincuenta y no pudieron evitar sentir en los oídos el latido rompedor de sus corazónes.

El mundo era grande, pero no tanto.

As soon as she unpacked all her luggage she took over her little map and decided to walk along the famous Soho.
Everything was as big as she thought: big wide streets where people walk without paying attention if there was any traffic or not, the big buildings full of emergency stairs, the shops as diverse as their content from peanut butter to imported Spanish omelette...
She had kind of a French look, with her red beret. But her dream since she was a child was to stroll along New York with a red beret. Now as an adult she was not meant to her heart to her younger self.
She stared her reflection as it appeared in the shops showcases. She smiled as she look through the crystal of a barber shop like one she had seen so many times on the movies, with it small multi-colour thingy that was spinning at full speed.

It was almost eight, the streetlights of Manhattan started to get light up the streets in that cold February. She was about to cross the 50th when she saw him on the other side, staring to a tinny subway map lit by his cell phone.

How was that possible? Knowing how big is the world. She had to bump into him?

They look each other in the eye. It was eight to eight en the left side of the 50th St when they could not avoid to hear the deafening sound of each other heart, pumping.

The world was big but not that much.

Cuento de Navidad... by R1

"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all out kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us."

"Hay algunos seres sobre la tierra" -replicó el Espíritu- "que pretenden conocernos, y que realizan sus acciones de pasión, orgullo, malevolencia, odio, envidia, intolerancia y egoísmo en nuestro nombre, y que son tan extraños para nosotros y para todo lo que con nosotros se relaciona, como sí nunca hubieran vivido. Acordaos de ello y cargad la responsabilidad sobre ellos y no sobre nosotros."

Charles Dickens
A Christmas Carol
Cuento de Navidad

Cuento de Navidad.... by [M]

"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name, who are as strange to us and all out kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us."

"Hay algunos seres sobre la tierra" -replicó el Espíritu- "que pretenden conocernos, y que realizan sus acciones de pasión, orgullo, malevolencia, odio, envidia, intolerancia y egoísmo en nuestro nombre, y que son tan extraños para nosotros y para todo lo que con nosotros se relaciona, como sí nunca hubieran vivido. Acordaos de ello y cargad la responsabilidad sobre ellos y no sobre nosotros."

Charles Dickens
A Christmas Carol
Cuento de Navidad

Nuevos tiempos nos acontecen

Este blog se ha pasado mucho tiempo inactivo por razones de lo más variadas, pero ya está arrancando motores para empezar de nuevo. Gracias a todos aquellos que se han hecho seguidores y han dejado sus comentarios :)
Volveremos pronto, muy pronto.
Prometido.

I miss you dear....

La otra mitad de este blog, R1, está ausente por causas de fuerza mayor. Así que me ha encomendado la tarea de seguir actualizando yo sola hasta que él pueda estar presente en espíritu (o adsl y ordenador en otras palabras).
Se que debía ilustrar un texto que él mismo me dejó preparado, pero es un texto demasiado especial como para hacerlo yo sola así que me he concentrado en hacer una ilustración que nos representara a los dos.
Esta ilustración refleja el último momento que viví con R1 fisicamente hablando y la sensación que me transmitió. Mi oso grande y protector, que me abraza rodeándome y haciendome sentir pequeña pero valiente.
Espero que vuelvas pronto y que todos esos Australianos te lo pongan bien facil. Y si no, muerdeles las posaderas...
A sus pinceles.... 3...2....1....ya!!!

The other half of this blog, R1, is it missing by mayor causes. He has given me the task of keep updating on my own until he can come back in spirit with us(in ADSL and coumputer in other words)
I know I had to illustrate a text he himself left ready, but that text is too especial like to do it on my own so I focused in doing an illustration the represented both of us.
This illustration is a reflection of the last moment I lived with R1 physically speaking and the feeling he transmited to me. My big bear big and protector, that surrounded me with a hugh making me feel small but brave.
I hope that you come back soon and all those Australians make you road for it. If not, bite them in their ass...
On your pencils..3...2....1....now!!!

The Statement of Alva Griest

Is it correct, or even possible to say a HOUSE has DIED?
That was my first impression. The paint was peeling from it's façade in long pale tongues that revealed worm-eaten wood beneath. Some half of the windows were broken out, with those of the upper story boarded over in a haste. The cupola dome had partially caved in, and one end of the house was entire was lower than the other, as if it had shifted on its foundation and would soon collapse.

The front door stood open or perhaps was missing. That entrance was no more than a black rectangle leading into mystery; splintered bullet holes around the jamb explained little. It was through that portal I was certain Bill had run and I made to follow, my musket and my haversack bouncing on my shoulder and back, my breath ragged in my throat.

No importa...

Mi nombre...
Mi apellido...
Hasta mi dirección...
No importan.
Suenan telefonos lejos de aquí, suenan y suenan, lejos muy lejos.
Y no hay cura para mi sangre... hecha de papel.

02. Sober

And I don’t know

This could break my heart or save me
Nothing’s real
Until you let go completely
So here I go with all my thoughts I’ve been saving
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me

Three months and I’m still sober
Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers
But I know it’s never really over

And I don’t know
I could crash and burn but maybe
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me
So I won’t worry about my timing, I want to get it right
No comparing, second guessing, no not this time

Three months and I’m still breathing
Been a long road since those hands I left my tears in but I know
It’s never really over, no

Wake up

Three months and I’m still standing here
Three months and I’m getting better yeah
Three months and I still am

Three months and it’s still harder now
Three months I’ve been living here without you now
Three months yeah
Three months I hurt

Three months and I’m still breathing
Three months and I still remember it
Three months and I wake up


Three months and I'm still sober

Picked all my weeds but kept the flowers

01. I thought...

[I thought it was the right time to stop thinking of you...but nobody lets me...]