About farewells.
"Hell of living is not something to be, there is one, is one that already exists here, the inferno where we live every day, which we are together. There are two ways to escape suffering.
The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become part of it to the point of not seeing him anymore.
The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the middle of hell, is hell. And make it last, give them space. "
I met wonderful people ... people that teaches you the world and, unknowingly, influences our way, enriching, with thousands of personal nuances. Sometimes they are the ones that open road, give us the compass, we are obliged to follow a path which we do not want, do not want to go. And also, sometimes, we realize that it was THE way. Occasionally, it happens, we discovered that was not the desired path and rectify to take our own course. I suppose that's mature. And I discovered, it's nice to meet, later, with those people, and know that despite not sharing ways of thinking, we admire. We are, we become "old warriors to look at each other without saying a word, they say: " What you gonna tell me that and I do not know " or simply are given an accomplice smile, shake hands and return to being lost forever.
some time, I'm getting ready for goodbye. I'm learning that there are people with bad taste, to leave before us. I must get used to this. Call it a stupid law of life. An absurd law of life ...
And suddenly ... I remember, I come back alive ...
is, look in the mirror, and remind me every few years. Almost one child and be eating, sweet, great golf with a big Tozo of "hand cheese " . You lose to a large fillet of fish from an orgy of tomato, avocado, hearts of palm, cucumber and not knowing where to start. You see me riding a chestnut horse with the heart turned restless bird in the ribs of my chest, and believe the "Lone Ranger" . You know that " The Sound of Music" exists in the voice of Julia Elizabeth Wells, Julie Andrews for mortals. You sneak by the legs of my grandmother to see in the drive-in A Clockwork Orange, yes, mismito of Stanley, when I still did not have 9 years. You take me, my first beer, because the heat made me lead between the red mud and full of howlers insulting flora.
Life has been good to me. It becomes, at least I hope, in a big wave and hit me against the rocks, sometimes raised me until I touch the stars and see the robe of the gods. I guess I'm nothing it originally how we can be original, and looked, suddenly at my past and breathe deep.
I had a guy with a mustache, in a corner filling sentadito like mad, their ever eternal puzzles. A guy with his particular way of walking, you get sent to "peel wedges" , a guy who put my brother wonderful nickname of "Rat Pelu" . I had a guy with a mustache who devoured all the books that came to his hand. A guy with a mustache and hat. A guy who tried to tame my cantankerous aunt, the eye changes according to your mood. A guy who looked deeper, of few words but what he spoke. I had a guy with a mustache and a hat that had a funny smile and character of thunder. It is a "Take 100 dollars to take a beer back in Switzerland, my name" . I had a guy with a mustache and a hat ..., domino player. Magallanero to death.
I
known wonderful people ...
I had a guy with a hat and the words I'm lost ... say you're born with few tears, they say you're born with complete silence, they say that life is a perfume is lost in our hands, say it is a smile that comes varnishing our horizon ...
started writing this clumsy piece of " Invisible Cities" by Italo Calvino . He ended with another one of the most beautiful ending I've read in any novel. This is the final paragraph of his "The Baron in the Trees" .
"... it was an embroidery on anything that resembles this line of ink as I have left running for pages and pages, packed with deletions, referrals, nervous blotting, stains, of gaps, that sometimes unfolds in thick clear grapes, sometimes thickens as seeds in tiny pinpoint signs, sometimes twisting in on itself, sometimes splits, now Phrase refers smooth contours of leaves or clouds, and then stalls, and then returns to curl, and runs and runs and is wound and last cluster involves a fool of words, ideas, dreams, and it's over. "
A Calero Juan Darias. In Memoriam.
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