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...Is it alive?


Imagine a situation where you can only live when temperature is low enough until people can barely move and life lays latent until the sun comes back.
A password conceived by nature to keep balance among some to attack those who prey on summer and sleep on winter. You may think a vampire, I prefer to call them nature's revenge on the true living dead.

Steps...

Those endless steps. You can hear them and almost feel their security lurking around you, unable to determine exactly their location but feeling a gaze upon you.
It's the unknown, the future that confronts you, that makes the stranger company while leaving you alone.
What to do? What to do? Only waiting... Waiting until silence retakes its course or a dramatic end finishes the torture received by your mind.

I've been told my words are charming...

...But people fear to repeat them like if some sort of curse could arise from pronouncing them.

Even Siddharta...

...Had doubts about the properties of alcohol. Who could answer about its mysteries? When could you dictate that all its effects vanished from your mindful lands?
It might have had a beginning, never an end.

Llegará un día...

...Que hablaré de eslavos y sus costumbres, de cómo comenzaban sus edictos en un atril para luego terminar en una esquina oscura del bar típico, contra todo pronóstico, para confesarse sobre los pecados comunes de nuestros pueblos.

Leaving your footprints

Making an invisible move towards an unknown future... Signing the walls with your essence.
How else can you imagine your world? They feel your scent and make their move until you're free from all judgement. The street is yours to take.
Shadows that overcome your independence, blocking your way casting dark words.
Now, it's time. Going back to your small corner in the world. From there you can rest peacefully, your master is watching over you until the next day, a black and white day.
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