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Final.

Here ends this blog.
Is it true or false what was written here?
And the text of the book? Are they fake or real?
Sometimes, many times, everything is pure theater.
Until next time.

www.libropuroteatro.blogspot.com

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Tout va bien ... When the city weeps Avail oneself of the Sacred

There was a time when laughter filled my life and my skin absorbed all the tears. The joy was my day to day and the nostalgia was just a written word in dictionaries. It was the happiness of others and let me touch it in the bad moments, gave warmth on cold nights and heard confessions and secrets that nobody else knew.

I know I was important in many lives, filled holes and fill gaps. Vi grow to around me while I was forever young, hoping that other arms surround my body. Endured neglect in trunks, water baths at forty degrees and patches that all my wounds healed.

I accepted that everything worked on the basis of cycles and at the end of each cycle played hide in the trunk until another dawn came. Expected whenever a new life appeared and timid eyes scrutinized me with curiosity. Expected to become someone important, a reference to go back over the years, part of the story of a person ...

And today ... today I am left feeling the cold meat and noticing how wet I rain in this city may cry, in the same way as I do now. My end has come. No more hugs and kisses goodnight. I can not be night watchman or guard against the exercise of ghosts. Today

no more cycles or laughter because someone decided to get rid of my throwing away forcing me to accept. I have fear. I hope a miracle, someone grabbed my hand and rescue me from this cruel end ...

And the city continued to cry ...

For those who are unable to pull one stuffed with us so many times ...

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Tired Souls

The night has its magic

In the darkness that surrounds everything, the figures become blurred ...

For a secret spell the breeze is barely perceptible ...

distant lights of the bank yellow orange cast their reflection on the calm water, resembling columns, that confuse the up and down ...

The overcast sky as a red orange robe, covering the stars and the moon ... .

But they are there, can you imagine them behind the clouds? Music

distant dream echoes of distant drums brought by the water ...

Someone light a bonfire on the beach, far away ...

Rumor of the sand under our feet ... the aroma of eucalyptus

wet with dew

flooding the senses ... I look for your eyes clear

, bright as a star, I get lost in your eyes deep ...

My heart goes on a rampage, my soul throbs with emotions and feelings to the surface ... the distance

resonate fireworks, colored reflections illuminate the sky, enhancing heart rate in each burst ...

Suddenly and without warning comes the hug so dreamed, so strong, so intense so vast, so full of light, so unstoppable, so overwhelming ... that nothing in the universe could separate ...

The world fades around us, everything is gone except you and me, center of our universe, based on our arms make us a single being ...

Sighs, blood bubbling in the heart, energy flowing strokes that we find ...

rub Lips, mouths to meet, kiss bursts into uncontrollable passion ...

Broncos finally loose, free, full ...

magical moment of the night, unique, unrepeatable moment that left its mark on the heart, in the body, soul ... forever ...

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" La Soledad contains your name" at the 11th FLIA (Independent Book Fair and self-managed). View 0:55 min.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mdiQg9HzcUo

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This Friday at 23 am, make me an interview at the last show of Chronicles of a love. Listen to AM 970, or online at www.radiogenesis970.com . Thanks! Do not miss it!

People

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in Acts in Buenos Aires!

dear:

share with you the first note I published "as a journalist."

came out in the journal Made in Buenos Aires, November 2010 edition.

I hope you enjoy it.

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Between sheets to the wind we

Between sheets are cold We have plenty of heat

We love each day flowers
To the sound of your waves
And mine do not have hours



time I reach there ... I'll catch you stretch

swam .... .... pass me float

intertwine We already abound We burn the savannas
! We broiled


intense heat from the top we
A
And there ... we miss and we

In constant love !!.... Burning
Free!
God! ... As we love! ---------

For this flame that still burns

for this love we release
That leaves us in every pore ....
And together we breathe!

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Battleship

Surely everyone who reads me see me as someone more depressed than optimistic, but it's true, is impossible to write something in conditions when one feels good or happy.

And in the end, if life is a game, I am the Battleship Fleet aircraft carrier: an easy objective to achieve, but to sink is to be patient.

(And, of course, also bullets).

- You can not.
- Touched.

- Sorry ...
- Touched.

- Goodbye
- Touched.

- I do not want.
- Touched.

The alarm sounds, the light turns red. All your posts! The ship capsize. We have met! The walls reverberate. Sparks fly and flooded cellars. But the mask bow is impassible. His effigy is not changed, her face does not flinch, does not lengthen his shadow, her face does not scratch.

And although the ship has not yet been fully stabilized and apprentices are bailing water and plugging holes, the captain back on track and holding the pipe with his right hand bellows: It is our turn! Aim!


Water.

~ Photo-print caterpillar

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Wild Horses in the wind ...

that are emotions, feelings

...

not be contained,

can not stop, can not be controlled

...

need to be freed ...

need to be expressed!

emerging of nowhere,

juggernaut with Hurricane ...

nothing can stop them, nor the mind

can ..

nor soul dares ...

because ...

feel excited and reminds us that we are alive ...

feel excited and connects us with the deepest

and the highest ...

excited and feel, connects us with the here and now ..

not yesterday, not tomorrow .. today, now!

when you feel it is now is the time you get excited,

is now when the whirlwind of sensations and feelings

surround you, you move, you drive ...

you back to yourself your heart, maybe you are ...

when was the last time you felt a wild horse galloping

the wind ...?

when was the last time that allows you to release?

what do you expect?

Carlos

A Week Before Period And I Feel Wet

Sad happiness

Sometimes I do not know if I'm confused or sad or just sad and confused. I feel something inside me that drives me smile constantly and yet I do not. The need to write takes over at that point in my hand, like a crack addict it were, I have to rush, feeling cramps throughout the body until I sit in front of a page and I get to write.

begin to feel a sense of relief as the words are flowing, I relax the muscles and mouth begin to savor the nostalgia. Sad memories hit my head and flow through the arm tingling. Each new idea to drive out this way is a liberation. Sometimes I see as letters refuse to walk out when the comb of the pen, scratching the walls and shouting, but I have no mercy and the role turns out to be his tomb.

If you reread once, the stomach flips and my mind travels to those places, wearing old clothes and old reminds me of lipstick smells and spite. If you reread it sometimes felt more freedom and becomes a smile (albeit temporary) appears on my face. Once my arm is relaxed and there is nothing more than spitting became aware of what happened. I have plunged into a deep depression where even the whiskey has been able to bring me afloat. My table was the blank page and the waves that have led me to the edge points in it The murals. However

feel fear, because fear immerse myself too long in that depression removable, in that sense of guilt, resentment and hatred. In that bloody dance in a waltz that sounds with the rhythm of the past, where this does not matter and even for the future. I fear being addicted to the temporary sadness, pessimism, momentary defeat. I guess just in that state I can show myself, playing the notes that move my soul and to compose the melody of my life.

Is that we are too afraid to be happy?

tristefelicidad I prefer.

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Wind Wild Horses Heart of a child ...

child
Heart To wake the world


look around And it's all enjoy
Nothing is final, everything is flowing
Spread your madness

Your fickleness
your candor
Enamora

your purity And you poke a life so full of confidence

future so full of


Your Emotions are like water from a river overwhelming

Like the fire that embraces


Everything is Everything is awakening curiosity. .. Learning

way ..... As you will be in the autumn of your life. ------------------------

to that inner child

That beats fast and eager to be-no limits! To that heart

child in you .... in my
For this fall we live
And it is only in the skin
Being For this
We are now children like yesterday!!

Warning Signs Of An Approaching Stroke

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I know it's impossible to write something in conditions when one feels good or happy. For some reason the Muses always come to the rescue when we hit the sadness, heartbreak, torments, or uncertainty. It occurs to me now think again you have always been my inspiration, that I lost and that saves me ... my best friend, for making me dream, my own worst enemy by being the only one still able to hurt me.

My head takes years utilizándote, fingering your memory drift between nightmares, afraid to say goodbye. I guess because it suits my soul writer ... when I take something out of habit I turn to some so addicted to it.

But now, sitting in this hospital room, time passes differently and you go to import rather limited, to say nothing.

Here are happy people and sad people, it's amazing what you can produce in us the information, knowledge. As you can change your life in one second ...

The guy in the room 22, the girl crying in the room 23 laughs. Everything is a perfect compendium of smiles and tears, endless corridors, cold and heat, flowers and empty beds. Take so long trying to understand life, I confess that sometimes I forgot to live. I honestly do not know if I can ever forgive myself, but luckily today I played a special ward: that of the infectious.

Indeed I think I have caught something, and for better or for worse I remind the flavor they have the stuff ... I miss.

- "Happiness" - says the doctor looked at me sternly.

"Are they good or bad news?" - Wonder of laughter.

would not know what to say. And I'm honest. I know, I know that this disease should be exploited, nobody knows how long. There are people living in the future, people living in the past, then I am.

But this today is my flag, and the truth is that I like this room, so full of light and life. What nobody knows is that I have thought to escape tonight, before I injected antibodies to fight this disease that could last a year, a month, for a moment, perhaps just what it takes to write, what it takes to forget you, what it takes to tell myself that all give a shit, they will not be me.

What I know is I do not want to catch me here again the scheme or Actually, with their white coats, dull and pristine ... I know is I do not want to be here when melancholy comes to whisper: "You're cured."

Only one thing I regret: not being here to see faces put.