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This is not a farewell



The rush, I always leave the site in such a hurry ...

But I still had time this weekend (including cash and cash) to photograph, one of those places that I take with me, to remember.

Streets, for which I have spent almost every day, and made me dream ...

As the abandoned hotel, which is always summer, and makes me feel nostalgia for places that have not been.

Finally, bluntly.

I can not say goodbye, so until then, we are on the network, here and elsewhere (although probably spend some time offline)

Thanks to all who shared with me this place has always been a joy sense your presence on the other side.

I've been very happy at Zaragoza and time as the teacher explained to Momo, I learned to appreciate the time with the heart ... I consider myself fortunate to have met this wonderful city, which very often think back (uh, we thought you were going to get rid of me so easily?)

Hugs and Kisses for everyone ... From now on, I find at the Chamartin The Attic.

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Moving from a flat of 110 m2 30m2 another is not an easy task.

must discard many things.

clothing, furniture, shoes, movies, books, go handing around here and there, pieces of you, after having finally chosen as expendable.

And the days pass, and my house is increasingly empty, but not done anything at fault, as I thought.

the contrary, I feel more and more light.

I wonder what the hell would I want all those things, if not needed.

guess that's the sentimental value.

But I have a big heart, so now I find it somewhat absurd that going keep my love for others, in a relationship of objects, when I know (sorry) they always carry with me.

When part of me.

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Moving Here




I go home, which has been my home for a year and four months.

road under the sun because the sun is shining today, while I stop at the cloudless sky. In the stunted trees and their shadows, even more rickety. Watch the streetlights, signs, traffic lights, the orange soil, cars, rocks that form the walls ... The same route, so many times, and I still like to see.

And I find it beautiful.

leave before walking without seeing, but I'm not sure if that be possible (for me).

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Volando voy ... Retrieved



bad luck, had a cold in recent days we spent here together.
I have two weeks, whole (and you, their respective weekends.)
Then we'll be gone.
the road again. And Kiko Veneno
playing, saying it does muxo stalled, while we die of cold.
leads them while I play the palms.
I'm already a little better, now that gave me the scare ... and start to realize, little by little, that this is over.

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I and I come from Chamartin The attic

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a hiding place (a couple of months)

you exit the metro and meet face to face with the night, dotted with skyscrapers, I thought

Someday, I will live in a place filled with even higher buildings.

The night will be darker.
The lights shine everywhere.

And I'll be small, tiny, tiny.

An ant dance in the street, when from the sky
immense
snow starts falling.

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Countdown



In late February, I will be moving to Madrid. First I have
some things end here.
And yesterday I started taking some pictures of emergency.

First, the swimmer of the park, smiling
you hope that the tide,
To jump into the water.

The second, I looked, still displayed,
Unknown.

not have much time,
But I will not complain,
I enjoyed much of the city,

in the city.

Now I am about to move my joy.

Craig David

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hear while waiting for the bus, in the Plaza San Miguel. Just drop a few drops, but the soil is wet, the brick facades as well, and displayed red, perfect, intense, as if waiting to be covered, the rain, and music.

I'd like to save a picture from that time. But how do reflect the musty smell, mixed with the fleur de lis, recovered an old perfume? Are not enough eyes, or memory, they fall short. I'm always going to miss the tingling of happiness, through my body, the feeling of being nothing ambiguous, and be part of everything.

Sometimes life is so beautiful, that digital cameras have become completely useless objects. Pots.

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early 2006 and still here

Homecoming,
hoarse,
again.

always lose my voice,
When callus.

sometimes in the throat, stings
silence.

But I'm calm,
At home,
In this city, I feel mine,
his return.

And I do not regret the dead words.

paid with hugs and kisses.