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curse of the High Sky ...

The universe, as in cahoots with this guy. All micro-old agreed to ask the seat. All dogs were organized to cagarle the road every 5 meters. All traffic lights were synchronized to change to red when he arrived. The 1 st guitar string just decided to cut when he played this tune is so fond. The neighbor flaite just chose this day to shoot the power lines and just cut the light in your home (the only house without light).

already decided to die, Funa rotten with the universe, known the warning beep. A message on the mobile. A message from her. A sketch smile on it. Just coincided when the sun rose in Santiago.

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Dreams! Music

Boy: Mom, I have a dream.


Mother: And what is that dream?


Boy: I want to create a rock opera. I want to be the protagonist. Wearing bizarre, have dancers, singers, jugglers, all!


Mother: But do it!


Boy: Is that just requires a lot of money, advertising and so on. Now I'm a poor devil more.


Mother: If this idea in your head gesture is because it already exists. Maybe. You have the talent. Silver matters. The most difficult thing and get over it.


Boy: And what's so difficult that it exceeded?


Mother: stand in front of me and say "I want to do it."

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to atone ... Santiago

He lights a cigarette, casually. Walk a few steps. He struggles on (it is usual for him). It does, but by halves. No one cares. Take the guitar. Reluctantly, as if it were a punishment, the tunes and plays one or two nonsense line. Look at the sky. A little cloudy but very cool. With more reluctance, remembers. With much reluctance takes the notebook. With total reluctantly writes a song. With total happiness and with the butt of cigarette burns the paper. Forget the song. The miss her ...

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may be another city, if you want

Today I went to look for my school go back to Providence. A processed relatively quickly. So fast, that is not justified all the time spent traveling to that place. Once the permit application, I get to the Metro Salvador, over the pass again and I stop in front of the turnstile. "What if ...". "It would be good ...". And before you get to challenge any form of reasoning, I ran into the park, take a deep breath and began my journey.

Santiago is cloudy after endieciochados spring and endless days. Someone would say "One of those gloomy days." For me, a great day for introspection. I started walking the trails to Seminary Avenue Providence, and I realized how fast you walk (with respect to the other characters walking around). There, I said "On the ridge, I became another victim of Progress." With great effort, walk slowly, I put all the volume MP3 and lost myself in another James.

really was another James. The images did not coincide with the sensations and sounds. With a good soundtrack, my trip was magical. Crossing had already done a thousand times. But this was different. I was impressed that I found peace in a place with honking, buses, engines, people running, etc. I did not no bills and had reached the great obelisk of Balmaceda, another crazy visionary, victims of progress. Arrive at Forest Park. My Parque Forestal. Shelter. Cradle of love and heartache. Also I found different. Broad, misty, lonely and melancholy. Walk even slower. The pigeons did not flee from me. It was part of them. The park. The music started up in shrillness and a climax of memories, past feelings, smells and tastes. I was in the clouds, drugged, ecstatic. And in a bit of awareness among the sandstone known as Forest Park, was drawing a heart, a lonely lonely heart made by any hand. Here I felt exploited. Was no longer alone. Suddenly, people came from all sides. Life gave me a chance to live.

already satisfied, I ran to the whereabouts and take the first bus that caught.

Luckily was coming to my house ...

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Even without the sun ....

And is gone, the vain, sir, alerted by a cry at night, to meet her, and well-known destination. In fact, he liked the idea of \u200b\u200bgoing to hell for a while ...