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Showing posts from November, 2020

Rewrite

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Puçol (València, Spain), November 2020 Do you feel sometimes like your country is no longer your country, like your world is no longer your world? Do you feel a longing for things you never had, for things you never lived? Do you feel just like rewriting your life? Do you feel, when rewriting, like you are not ready to renounce the good you lived, the good you learned? Sorry, you have to know there is no such thing as rewriting, as going back without renouncing both everything and everyone. There definitely is no such thing as rewriting without renouncing, you just have to breathe and keep going with clear eyes and your brightest smile.

Rock and Briers

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Home. Puçol (València, Spain), November 2020   The pain of the open wound left by loves that were, made out of an unguarded heart an unassailable rock. Lurking loves constantly battering on the stony skin forced the lithic suffering heart into a bastion among thick briers. Tenacious love, though, managed to ignite the briers letting at last fire start changing igneous rock into lava. With the incandescent lava the sacrifice of the rock came to give back space to a love which never ever stopped.

Grau, gray, gris

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  Puçol (València, Spain), November 2020 Grau, gray, gris, a dark sky heavy with rain, an invitation to stay home, a time off to think, write, rest. Gray, gris, grau, clouds around me, cold breeze, shout out for a fireplace lit, a bonfire of both loss and wins. Gris, grau, gris, a promise to look back, a promise to keep going on, a promise to build a future.

(After the) Rain

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  Puçol (València, Spain), November 2020 After the rain and the leaden gray which relentlessly flooded fields and streets and minds, brilliant, naïve the light is coming which in the air awakens brightness and colors suitable for this spring-like Fall in the arms of the Mediterranean.

In the Fall

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Aptenia cordifolia. Puçol (València, Spain), October 2020   The softness of light in the Fall on the Mediterranean seaside brings back echoes of a Spring both close and far away, strange. The softness of light in the Fall in the memory of this year compels mind and senses to shed things outlived which must thus go. The softness of light in the Fall in this balance between new and old leads us to open up spaces for new things to come. The softness of light in the Fall in its splendid explosion of color makes me wish to ready a home to welcome a new fertile Winter.