BAR&ANKÁS BLOG

What does he punish to wake up one day and to find you

The empty bed, a hollow that cheers up to stretch

And to stretch in this hollow that was always

Occupied.

The far-away look in the horizon and a thought

That says to you that you continue here, that you are happy, that you love to

Your family, that you need them.

You stretch the hand look for this hollow, hope to find it

I fill, because gap does not fill you, there are many years next to you.

Comforting to return to the unison of the life.

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This is the night in which I will have to pay. I am sitting in the dressing room to alone with my bottle of bourbon and my old woman Gibson, am cold although perspiration drops furrow my face, this must be the fear: drops of cold perspiration covering my face before the certainty of which this night I will pay with my soul … it is the just thing. gotas de sudor frío cubriendo mi cara ante la certeza de que esta noche pagaré con mi alma…es lo justo.

I have of hour and a half approximately and for what more it longs to me is to be alone and to remember who I was before Legba takes my soul forever. Only with my memories, with mom, with my childhood, with my wives, with the children that I never knew and they will walk on the dusty ways of the south, barefooted and hungry.

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The pain lasts the time that you want that it lasts, there do not matter the circumstances in which you are, one is never going to be able to take the freedom from the man, the freedom of loving is what gives sense to our lives, it is its complement and if the happiness …

Sick blood and weak heart
That looks in its silence for the freedom
Hidden behind so many nastiness.
But neither illness nor reality
They prevent the man the freedom,
That sweetens the bed of the life
Removing it this way from any solitude.

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One morning, on having got up, I looked at the mirror. The image that went out reflected was corresponding to that of a woman with the age double that mine. He was 25 years old, and it still had indicated in my face the remains of the last marital caresses. In the cheekbone, even puffed up, there remained marked the knuckles of that one undesirable. The cut in the commissure of the lips was taking the stamp of its wedding ring. And my eyes, those the same eyes that did not want to see what was happening to me, were preserving the blue with cold typical one of the suffering of those blows scoundrels. The side was hurting me, I raised the nightgown and verified the origin of that one pain. Two accurate kicks left steadfastness of that one damned reality. To read more …» En el pómulo, aun hinchado, seguían marcados los nudillos de aquel indeseable. El corte en la comisura de los labios llevaba el sello de su anillo de bodas. Y mis ojos, aquéllos mismos ojos que no querían ver lo que me estaba sucediendo, conservaban el amoratado característico del padecimiento de aquéllos golpes canallas. Me dolía el costado, levanté el camisón y comprobé el origen de aquél dolor. Dos certeras patadas dejaron constancia de aquélla maldita realidad. Leer mas … »