April 30 2 008
I have pleasure in presenting you to Maica.
Maica is extrovert,
Chance, unconscious.
Marisol is real, he drizzles, reliable.
Maica submits to its intentions,
On the contrary Marisol.
It has caution, and measures everything with premise.
Maica bewilders with its answers, happens unnoticed for
Real.
April 30 2 008
The first time that I saw it was taking a red garment to game with its half long hair. That pretty network dress, oh Eileen. I have always liked this color for its hair. The tonality of the same lips. Since I knew it he was dreaming of tangling my fingers in its long hair and doing a million kiss-curls ruby. Me embobaba with the contortion of its hips to the gait or while he was dancing. I was getting lost in the look of its big eyes and was meeting again in its lips, in the kisses that it was throwing to the air. But especially its voice. Yours, your voice, Monique Powell. Siempre me ha gustado ese color para su pelo. La tonalidad de sus mismos labios. Desde que la conocí soñaba con enredar mis dedos en su melena y hacer un millón de caracolillos rubí. Me embobaba con la contorsión de sus caderas al caminar o mientras bailaba. Me perdía en la mirada de sus grandes ojos y me reencontraba en sus labios, en los besos que lanzaba al aire. Pero sobre todo su voz. La tuya, tu voz, Monique Powell.
April 27 2 008
There was saying Aquiles, this personage of the Iliad of Homero, … “I detest, to the man who says a thing: but hide other one in its heart!”, obviously it was referring to the sincerity, which in those times seems already that leading role was charging for its scarcity between the human beings., evidentemente se refería a la sinceridad, que ya en aquellos tiempos parece ser que cobraba protagonismo por su escasez entre los seres humanos.
But … really do we know that it is the sincerity? or it is a quality that we say to have when we want to hurt a person, and in addition of hypocrisy, we want to suit.
April 23 2 008
That sad is to get old
Whenever I think that I am in the 90
And I cannot move of an armchair
Of me one empowers so immense sorrow
That not distant day I lose the reason.
I live with my children they have me a months
that they are very long
“Grandfather he has left ten days”
and when from there I go out
in all the faces the happiness is seen.
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