17 agosto 2018

I already have your bones

I already have your dark moon and well bones,
the forgotten ones in the yellow chronicles of the blue ones,
those buried in the silence of the darkness of barbarism,
the ones hidden by the murderous hands.

I already have your skull,
with two black holes that swallowed your future and your smile,
with two eyes closed forever,
with two holes of rage and blindness,
with two hits to silence your libertarian word.

I already have your memory,
the one left in the black and white photographs,
the one who gave me up with eternal words,
the one I built with the water from the wells of hope.

I already have a place to bury you,
where wild daisies will always grow,
away from dark wells, chasms and ditches,
a place to rest from the monsters' folly,
where they will carve your name with the chisel of justice.

I already have your bones; justice has already been done.

  Image Source: Own

16 agosto 2018

Graffiti de mi barrio


Esta es una muestra de los graffitis que hay en mi barrio, en este caso, este está en un túnel que hay en un barranco.
This is a sample of the graffiti in my neighborhood, in this case, this is in a tunnel in a ravine.

15 agosto 2018

The hassles with the tie

I don't know how many times I've tried to learn to tie the fucking tie and failure has always been present in such attempts. What if the single knot, the Windsor, the half Windsor, the double single, the cross knot or the no less important, small knot. 
They don't teach you how to tie a tie in school, and at least once in your life, usually at weddings and funerals, and in this part of the first world, you have to wear a tie. 
However, once again and with great courage, I have set about it again. I have collected the practical information on the Internet, located the website for the knots and printed the attached documentation. I have set to work in front of my mirror, which is sometimes a son of a bitch, with a sheet of paper on top of the sink and sweaty hands. I decided on the Windsor knot, which is a classic. I can't do it the first time. The second time I'm tuning up the churro and it seems that the manual matter is on its way, but my hands are still sweating. 
Third time, uff. The will falters and if the will falters, I don't know if I will be able to reach my goal. The will, they say, is the secret of success; some talent and a lot of will. 
It crosses my mind to leave it for another day, so that the knowledge settles and my fucking neurons work on the Windsor and allow me to finish the fucking knot.
I take the page and get it close enough. I realize that presbyopia has played a dirty trick on me, because I read a sentence in Times New Roman, size 8: 
It's quite complicated to do. 
I reflect for a moment on whether to abandon the Gordian task and opt for another knot that is more within the reach of my obvious, manual limitations. 
In the end, I decide to continue the fight. I like to finish what I finish. My wife says that's one of my most remarkable qualities. I'm not so sure about that. After an hour, I make the fucking Windsor knot in the balls. 
I'm happy about it. I will be able to go to my appointment as the canons of etiquette command, but with the sad conviction and also with some desperation, that this learning is as ephemeral as the water in the hands. because I have the feeling that tying tie knots is not like riding a bicycle, which you learn forever, but it takes a lot of daily practice and I really think I will see Mr Windsor in a few months' time.

 Image Source: Pixabay

14 agosto 2018

Yoga en la playa a media mañana


El yoga es una de las maneras más purificadoras de darle la bienvenida al nuevo día.
Yoga is one of the most purifying ways to welcome the new day

13 agosto 2018

The city singer

She was sitting on a beach bench. She was in her twenties, disheveled, with her hair dyed in various colors, singing and playing the guitar. She had a round voice and she was very well tuned. I recognized the music and lyrics of Bob Dylan's song Blowin in the Wind. 
I stopped to listen to it and, little by little, the people, who were walking along the avenue, stopped to listen to it, until they made a big run around it.  At the end many of those present applauded and placed many coins and notes on the straw hat in front of her. She smiled and thanked, with a slight gesture of her head, for the applause and the gratuities.
Then he continued with a song that I didn't recognize at first, but then I acknowledged the song. It was Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven. 
This song that the singer dedicated to his son who died at the age of four in an unfortunate accident. I was surprised by the change of voice register, different from the round and sensual voice, now it was a hoarse and torn voice. I went over and checked that she was crying. I noticed that some of the walkers were also crying, as if they were contagious with a mystical atmosphere that the singer had created. At the end of the song, the audience started with brave applause and lots of applause and most of them rushed to deposit money in the singer's hat. She returned them with a smile. She picked up the guitar, embraced it and said a few words that I didn't understand. Then she put it in a blue case, collected the winnings and put them in a small blue cloth bag. She got up, took all her belongings, went down to the beach and took a bath. 
I went on my way to a meeting I had in the middle of the morning. Late in the afternoon, while taking a walk around the city, I found her leaving a supermarket with her guitar, her backpack hanging on her back and a bag full of sandwiches wrapped in paper. I followed her from a safe distance, until we arrived at a parking area, in which there were about thirty homeless people taking refuge under its ledge. I watched her greet and deliver the sandwiches to each of the people until she was left without any. 
Then she walked towards the beach, sat on a bench by the avenue and began to play her guitar and sing. This time she sang Bob Marley's Redemption song and I was amazed; the best version I had ever heard. 
When I finished I went over and left fifty euros in his straw hat. Our eyes met and she smiled at me. I walked away as she started singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow from the Wizard of Oz movie.

Image Source: Pixabay
Source of the videos: Yotube

12 agosto 2018

La cantante de ciudad

Ella estaba sentada en un banco de la playa. Era una joven veinteañera, desaliñada, con el pelo teñido de varios colores que cantaba y tocaba la guitarra. Tenía una voz redonda y afinaba muy bien. Reconocí la música y la letra de la canción Blowin in the Wind de Bob Dylan
Me detuve a escucharla y, poco a poco, la gente, que paseaba por la avenida, se detenía a escucharla, hasta que hicieron un gran corro a su alrededor.  Al terminar muchos de los asistentes aplaudieron y le depositaron muchas monedas y billetes en el gorro de paja que tenía delante de ella. Sonrió y agradeció, con un leve gesto de su cabeza, los aplausos y las gratificaciones.
Después continuó con una canción que no reconocí al principio, pero luego caí que era Tears in Heaven de Eric Clapton. 
Esta canción que el cantante le dedicó a su hijo que falleció con solo cuatro años en un desgraciado accidente. Me quedé sorprendido por el cambio de registro de voz, distinta a la voz redonda y sensual, ahora era una voz ronca y desgarrada. Me acerqué y comprobé que lloraba. Observé que algunos de los paseantes también lloraban, como si se les contagiara una atmósfera mística que la cantante había creado. Al terminar la canción, el público arrancó con bravos y muchos aplausos y la mayoría se apresuró a depositar dinero en gorro de la cantante. Ella les correspondió con una sonrisa. Cogió la guitarra, la abrazó y dijo unas palabras que no llegué a entender. Luego la guardó en una funda de color azul, recogió las ganancias y las guardó en un pequeño bolso de tela azul. Se levantó, cogió todas sus pertenencias, bajó a la playa y se dio un baño. 
Yo seguí mi camino hacia una reunión que tenía a media mañana. Entrada la tarde, mientras daba un paseo por la ciudad, me la encontré saliendo de un supermercado con su guitarra, su mochila colgada a la espalda y una bolsa repleta de bocadillos envueltos en papel film. La seguí desde una distancia prudencial, hasta que llegamos a una zona de aparcamientos, en la que había una treintena de personas sin techo que se refugiaban bajo su cornisa. La vi cómo saludaba y entregaba los bocadillos a cada una de las personas hasta que se quedó sin ninguno. 
Luego caminó en dirección a la playa, se sentó en un banco junto a la avenida y comenzó a tocar su guitarra y a cantar. Esta vez cantó Redemption song de Bob Marley y quedé asombrado; la mejor versión que había oído jamás. 
Al terminar me acerqué y le dejé cincuenta euros en su sombrero de paja. Nuestras miradas se encontraron y me sonrió. Yo me alejé al tiempo que ella comenzaba a cantar Somewhere Over the Rainbow de la película del Mago de Oz.

Fuente de la imagen: Pixabay
Fuente de los vídeos: Yotube