I live in a place where everything that happens
seems to happen by chance
A road through the village
The country is road
None chose to live here
But there is something that holds us
Why although there is no love
sometimes
sometimes there Anything 'other
.. maximum volume .. from here ..
take my bike and I start at 3 pm, under an African sun, in the 'hinterland .
take the street that runs alongside the tracks, I keep close to the wall, and go where it takes me the slope of the road. 4 km are slightly down, the asphalt is new, black, soft. second via michelin , by bike, I put about a quarter of an hour.
somewhere are ringing the bells of a church, but it's too hot to believe that someone has had the courage to marry barbarian at this time. will be a funeral ...
I have always traveled this road in the car.
walking is not feasible. Cycling I hope ...
the air is thick and heavy, the silence between a stroke and the other is broken only by the sound of my chain.
but where we go from here?
step close to a dead cat that melts in the sun in the weeds on the roadside. the pungent smell and seems to have attacked on me and on the walls of warehouses and empty gray.
for me is the first time: the first time that I stop believing in planning urban growth of a small industrial suburb ...
with a deposit of forklifts parked outside, which is baking in the sun and the rain in rust universal arrogance. a sawmill. a mechanic. a dealer. manufacture of neon signs. another deposit. next, always the railroad. that pedal and I skimming the tracks, a tear in the wall of shadow that gives me.
between a building and the other there are only the tobacco fields. empty.
are only small pieces of land, and the eye should not go much further: now there are other deposits that mark the end.
is a farmer in a field dressed as a peasant farmer with a hat. among the stropponi tobacco, leans on a pump for irrigation and drinking the black water. slow down, and I imagine the mess that is shaking the worms in his stomach. pass a car, the driver looks at me. I can not cross his eyes through his thick sunglasses. then he pulls straight.
was a moment, so who knows 'thought ...
you ever pray?
because I, I always pray!
that is, after all not to believe in god. But ... I firmly believe that God does not exist.
I firmly believe in the absence of a divine breath, in this small, sunny, confused world.
I firmly believe in the lack of a plan and a purpose in the evolution of the human race and I strongly believe in the randomness of everyday life.
but I always pray!
Please so all is well. Please so, for people who deserve it, life is not hard. and that does less harm, as it hits. Please
so for them, and a little 'for me, everything is easier. sweeter.
and the pain, if it is really necessary, is less fierce. and less cruel.
do not know if you can define exactly as "praying" ...
is more of a general good luck ... an eternal cross your fingers ... a huge, extreme, "good luck" general.
the end, we all know that universe if el desarrollo como que takes ser ... the universe develops, unfolds, as it should be ...
but I pray the same, so for those who deserve it, for some people, those who deserve to still, despite everything, to be saved, this unwind is less violent, less brutal and less messy possible.
seems to happen by chance
A road through the village
The country is road
None chose to live here
But there is something that holds us
Why although there is no love
sometimes
sometimes there Anything 'other
.. maximum volume .. from here ..
take my bike and I start at 3 pm, under an African sun, in the 'hinterland . take the street that runs alongside the tracks, I keep close to the wall, and go where it takes me the slope of the road. 4 km are slightly down, the asphalt is new, black, soft. second via michelin , by bike, I put about a quarter of an hour.
somewhere are ringing the bells of a church, but it's too hot to believe that someone has had the courage to marry barbarian at this time. will be a funeral ...
I have always traveled this road in the car.
walking is not feasible. Cycling I hope ...
the air is thick and heavy, the silence between a stroke and the other is broken only by the sound of my chain.
but where we go from here?
step close to a dead cat that melts in the sun in the weeds on the roadside. the pungent smell and seems to have attacked on me and on the walls of warehouses and empty gray.
for me is the first time: the first time that I stop believing in planning urban growth of a small industrial suburb ...
with a deposit of forklifts parked outside, which is baking in the sun and the rain in rust universal arrogance. a sawmill. a mechanic. a dealer. manufacture of neon signs. another deposit. next, always the railroad. that pedal and I skimming the tracks, a tear in the wall of shadow that gives me.
between a building and the other there are only the tobacco fields. empty.
are only small pieces of land, and the eye should not go much further: now there are other deposits that mark the end.
is a farmer in a field dressed as a peasant farmer with a hat. among the stropponi tobacco, leans on a pump for irrigation and drinking the black water. slow down, and I imagine the mess that is shaking the worms in his stomach. pass a car, the driver looks at me. I can not cross his eyes through his thick sunglasses. then he pulls straight.
was a moment, so who knows 'thought ...
you ever pray?
because I, I always pray!
that is, after all not to believe in god. But ... I firmly believe that God does not exist.
I firmly believe in the absence of a divine breath, in this small, sunny, confused world.
I firmly believe in the lack of a plan and a purpose in the evolution of the human race and I strongly believe in the randomness of everyday life.
but I always pray!
Please so all is well. Please so, for people who deserve it, life is not hard. and that does less harm, as it hits. Please
so for them, and a little 'for me, everything is easier. sweeter.
and the pain, if it is really necessary, is less fierce. and less cruel.
do not know if you can define exactly as "praying" ...
is more of a general good luck ... an eternal cross your fingers ... a huge, extreme, "good luck" general.
the end, we all know that universe if el desarrollo como que takes ser ... the universe develops, unfolds, as it should be ...
but I pray the same, so for those who deserve it, for some people, those who deserve to still, despite everything, to be saved, this unwind is less violent, less brutal and less messy possible.
photo : multiply me, chapter 12
live from hawaii
music : maximum volume after
"After deluded that eventually I would love
After designing travel Now that you have read my unpublished stories
After having accepted your criticism arbitrary
Now that you have made room in my bed
Now that you have made room in my veins
Now that you saved when I was ready to kill
After taking bites out of my bedroom furniture
not kill you to die unnoticed
After seeing my best lines
After loving you
had confirmation wind to take off the moorings
"
live from hawaii
music : maximum volume after
"After deluded that eventually I would love
After designing travel Now that you have read my unpublished stories
After having accepted your criticism arbitrary
Now that you have made room in my bed
Now that you have made room in my veins
Now that you saved when I was ready to kill
After taking bites out of my bedroom furniture
not kill you to die unnoticed
After seeing my best lines
After loving you
had confirmation wind to take off the moorings
"
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