dilluns, 25 de maig de 2015

This place

You walk the streets, you go into the woods, you get close to the water and you kick the ball about five hundred times just to see if maybe the scenes appear in front of you and instead of just remembering you can live, relive, not by going back but just by staying here and walking and seeing and smelling and talking —to someone or to yourself— all over town. All over the concrete and the grass, all the way up and all the way down. And the scenes —the small photographs in motion— don’t appear and you realize that they’re just empty frames that go on and on and you’re just in one right now; every second that goes by you fill another one that you’ll come back for some day. Continuously, wonderfully, in this place of eternal goodbyes.

dilluns, 18 de maig de 2015

Vertigo

a

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c
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dimecres, 13 de maig de 2015

Era això

I came back

and it was this.




the shining, bright sun, the smell of the air just now,
each physical moment, passing, passing, it's what
it always is or ever was, just then, just there.

Robert Creeley

dimarts, 12 de maig de 2015

Outlook Drive


I'm just another animal in the woods, reliving a shadow, finding the words that got left behind: ecosystem, orthodontist, playground.