Viento esparciendo palabrasQue por el camino se desmadranPor ser solo eso… Palabras.Una hoguera canaliza textosSeñales de humo con una mantaCigarro que las inhalanPrescindibilidad atesora mi almaNi por tierra, mar o aire apresa. O.

Amablemente ruegaTestarudamente pideAtronadormente exigeQue no lo despreciesQue lo protejasComo a un niño… No es indemne.No porta armaduraNi escudoNi estilete. Será imperecedero…Si diariamente lo mecesAcunándolo como a un bebéCon palabras y actos. No permitasQue se independiceSe desvanezca poco a pocoDifuminándose para siempre… No se compraNi se vendeNi hay una barita mágicaNi un genio en una lámparaCuyo... Leer más →

Lyrics for an emotional about a soul - deep love kept in silence. A poetic expression of deep love.

Te añoro como el primer momento que tras mi dorso pasaste cual comenta… Ante mi torso un instante más tarde sin permitir que te detuviera… Solo… En ese estacionario parque donde transitaste lentamente donde nadie detectó tu desembarque… Amoriguaste tu presencia creando un llameante cráter donde se entretejió con tu esencia en un ínfimo impás... Leer más →

El cuerpo exige calmaEl alma transitar en sosiegoEl corazón recuperar el latidoLa mente apaciguamiento.Un SOS sispirando entre susurrosEl huracanado eco no desentramaEl mensaje diseminado al viento. Únicamente un simple mineroSin necesidad de traductorEs capaz de anexionárselo como destinatarioSomatizándolo… Sintiéndolo. O.

Que ya no la embelesa tu poesíaQue no la derriten tus versosQue no endulzas con tus palabrasPor mucha pasión que las expresesCon todo el sentimiento internoQue las dotes… Al fin y al caboSon solo palabrasEscritas en una hoja en blancoQue ni te dan a conocerNi ofrecen una convivenciaSolo una pisible esenciaIncomparable con la presenciaCon los... Leer más →

Este es un monográfico sobre la vida y obra de la mítica cantante de jazz, soul y R&B, Amy Winehouse. En la víspera del 14 aniversario tras su triste desaparición, la legendaria vocalista entró a formar parte del tétrico Club de los 27... convirtiéndose en toda una voz referencial de su generación y que logró superar el cambio de siglo. Desde sus inicios como niña conflicitiva, este interesante estudio repasa todos sus éxitos como "Back To Black" hasta sus últimos días, así como también se profundiza en todos los amores y desamores que tuvo Amy a lo largo de sus días. ¡Una obra de referencia para los fans de la vocalista, y también para todo buen aficionado a la música contemporánea! El autor original de este monográfico es Julián Sánchez Caramazana.

And when I will get there, will I still be me, always me? Carrying the cross, the burden, the occasional light… is it me? If we always carry ourselves with us, why do we like travelling so much? We like the change of scenery, the change of reality. Even if the inner reality remains the…

(Continues from here) The narrator sits and stares into the darkness. The characters have stopped moving. He picks them up and looks at them as he holds them in his hand. He puts them back on the floor. They looked so alive… more alive than he himself. And yet, here he is. Alive. Sitting. He…

Mi mirada se hace esclavaCuando inquieta se enfrentaA tus castaños luceros que la retan. O.

Excava túnelesConstruye puentesHaz lo necesario para no ser un inconveniente… Que dance tranquila, cómoda, imponente… Corazón, cuerpo y mente un tridente. Cuida de ella cuando sientasque lo necesitacuando esté tristecuando esté alegreen cualquier circunstanciaaunque insignificante te pareciese… Dale confianza…Cuéntalaque te cuenteAparte de amanteseáis confidentes…Consigue que se abrarascando lo que cuesteaunque no te gustelo que te... Continue Reading →

Excavarías túnelesConstruirías puentesMerodearías por su ciudadesperando que te viese… Cuida de ella cuando sientasque lo necesitacuando esté tristecuando esté alegreen cualquier circunstanciaaunque insignificante te pareciese… Dale confianza…Cuéntalaque te cuenteAparte de amanteseáis confidentes…Consigue que se abrarascando lo que cuesteaunque no te gustelo que te cuente. Si necesita tiempo… ¡Concédeselo! Será que lo necesita… Ponte en su... Continue Reading →

Many years ago, I heard a song in a commercial and I immediately fell in love with it. I still remember it was a commercial about “Noa, the perfect perfume”, quite beautiful, actually. It made such an impression on me that I summoned the courage to write an email to Cacharel and ask for the author of the song (early internet days). Unexpectedly, a very nice person, who was clearly in love with the song as much as I was, informed me that the song was called Song to the Siren and it was a version

I don’t know what the title means, it just came to my mind. ‘Yes’ seems so invasive, so active, so demanding. ‘No’ means to stay with myself, peace, nothingness. ‘Yes’ is outside. ‘No’ is inside. I have as a desktop image a photograph of a path in the forest, full of bluebells (here it is, if you’re curious). Sometimes I find this image oppressive, but now I find it strangely liberating. A path that I don’t want to end. I don’t want to move forward. I don’t want to reach any destination. I just

I look at the horizon sometimes, mesmerised at the fact that I can see something I will never be able to reach. I remember it took me some time as a child to grasp the concept. I kept asking where exactly that ‘horizon’ was, as if it were a geographic spot and I needed the exact coordinates. I see now that it is an impossible aim, a dream. Why did we humans feel the need to define this line? The unreachable. Was ‘here’ not enough…? Do we need a carrot in front of our eyes to keep us walking? Wal

There comes a day when you are listening to music, alone, and you realise that you are where you have to be. That all the -isms are not for you. That you will follow your own path or no-path. That the desire for completion is just a not-here. A day when you realise you have to stop looking at what others may have achieved and just sit down. A day when you realise you are where you are for a reason. You realise you must find out why. Sit down now and find out. There comes a day when you realise

Why do we write? I sometimes wonder whether reaching out to everybody through online platforms is the same as reaching out to no one. It must be the same with writing a book, I guess. The writer pours their heart on a few pages for all to see, for some to take in, to mean something for a few, to connect with them. But, for the most part, the writer will never know this. It is like the ‘ping’ of a sonar in the middle of the ocean, with no ping back. I like that ping in submarine films. The quint

The shackle on one side And your heart on the other, meanwhile, bleeds And the beggar always by your side Your fellow traveller When the stars will fade You will come too Héroes del Silencio, The stranded mermaid I always saw the beggar, all beggars, as leeches trying to feed on others, on me. Trying to take what I had earned with my hard work and was rightfully mine. Mine. My possession, my ‘precious’. The things I own. The things that own me. Is the beggar freer than me? No possessions, no a

Some of the steps on which I base my current view of reality seem false now. But even so, they were necessary to bring me here, to this height. This tread on which I now stand may also be inaccurate or plain wrong, but it is necessary that I step on it to get a little higher. Or a little deeper… The past, my past, is not wrong. It is what brought me here and, as such, I am grateful. It does not matter that the vision of reality I once regarded as true turned out to be an illusion. What matters

When I am in a hurry with no reason, all I want to do is to be not-here. As if some other place would close the gap, fill the void. It is difficult to be here, not thinking about what I will need next or where will I have to be in a few minutes. Here. Where do I go in such a hurry, if not to another ‘here’? I carry myself with me. There is no ‘there’; wherever I will go I will be with me, an eternal here I cannot run away from. So, I might as well take my time. Or even all the time. I can unde