3 Prize awarded by the picture "Chargers" II in Photography Contest Information Odiel Easter
Thanks to all who have shown me their support and votes.
not be present, floating, lost the essence of the body. The body sensitive to everything and anything, without connecting. Contexts and sites fail to perform their duties, the soul transcends everything. The contacts, which should be fluid connections are just props and ground wires (do not know if I want to go), that being the soul with so much movement and sparking live unplugging who hit kicks. The body is the spirit that suffers and loses vitality and enthusiasm. Atomization minimum sensations impossible to group and order. Feelings at the wrong times. The body still suffers from the disagreements of the soul. The unit becomes increasingly difficult. The multiplicity of things removes the ability makers, taste of times and people. This is like a puzzle with the particularity that each piece has the ability to change shape and design depending on how the touch. Is it good to have chips on our puzzle that do not respect our mood swings as players? Or in this case it is better to change puzzle? Is it possible? Do we look for one that fits the way we are and fluctuate? Or try fluctuate less? Or do we adapt and learn to play well? I go to see a movie at the mezzanine, because now I know I have to move I use it more.
Image: Oscar Grillo
cilanco I hit the bottom of my life
and licked the tip of my finger mop
in cilanco wide as a lake
deep blue and cold.
is the eternal black hole
the light stops and time consuming.
Nobody knows why, why its light
but half asleep, half awake can work.
If we close our eyes and look to infinity
with powdered sugar white pupils,
sweetener after inhaled
like a rhinoceros
relentlessly onrushing
the wall of his days ...
God! Who knows where to stop? Who knows
how to stop? But there is no response.
rounding
glasses, grave of stunning mews,
grunts of hungry wolves,
pumas bellows fed
as mates warm tea when
promising a sleepless night revealed
and blessed are those who watch them go
without even looking.
took the whirligig and turned to the other side
to ensure that "everyone plays" out again.
And they all played happily
with racket and loud laughter
bouncing between marble walls
cold and wet, dark and wet again.
Masked by anger and rage, draws his
moist palm and sank in the seas of oblivion
corrugated cardboard and balsa
and alfalfa methane flag.
Image: Murakami