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viernes, 8 de octubre de 2010

Carta a un EXTRAÑO X (en inglés y español)

My Dear:

Cannot believe this is my tenth letter, time goes faster than I even notice. I came today with a special edition of myself, yes, sounds kind of weird but I cannot be all the time in this jail. I do not feel happy today neither sad, this is just me, sunny Friday without agony, until now at least.

I may sound like a very depressed person all the time, that is somehow sad, but I am really not like that, I hope, since I hate to cry, confession here, dear, I know. We will see.
What has been going through? Shared lips in one moment or two, women’s hips betray the heaven skin, poor men heart involved in lies of agony… But did not come today to talk about myself, or this painful reality, I came today to honor my brother friend, yes, the one who wrote you about coconut skin.

He is a young man with a big heart, I know he feels like me the world, his misery and his fantasy, dark days of pure destruction he feels, but then someday can be, just the weak smile that comes to his infinity, a satisfaction of being just like him, someone that kills in the eye like the rose killed The Little Prince, yes dear, certain things may happen in this lands and shire, sometimes there is Gandalf magic,  just like in the story, sometimes there is vendetta just like is also there in  V, may want to tell you more but I guess you may feel this before, it is an energy claiming to be found in the middle of nowhere when everybody has gotten blind. Irony my friend, comes again.

My brother friend has come in my same train, but a few years later, he has the power of the word, the power of the feeling, he was meant to be felt, in the skin killing as in the brain, like a decease it takes everything away, but more than a decease is just like the phrase: What does not kill me just makes me stronger… that is Mr. F (Frank), he owns the world, he can control the wind, powers mixed in just this reality, I know, may feel like he is so powerful after all, he is just like me, we know how this works and how it feels, there is no much mystery than the price taken from us to pay this reality, hell yes, since you may already know dear, there is ALWAYS a price to pay, high or not that high, will depend on what you get.

I just noticed I found easier to talk not about me! That is funny, or not funny, but then logic. Dear friend, stranger friend, I would like someday, somehow to know about you and your land, how are your eyes? Are they dark blue? Mysterious like the ocean and its cavities? Or just like crystals made of water, ice, that vanish what you may want to read on them? Is there magic in your hands or in your days? Are you from this galaxy or even from this world as well?

I will wait for your replies dear; I know you may not be in the way I conceive. Mr. F and I have love the way we write to you, it feels just like we are talking to some very stranger friend, who at the same time, has the power to not say anything, you keep my secrets, you may keep Mr. F secrets as well, we are even more than just the same. You can be our hero friend! You can dance with us in the rain; you can save our souls with no blame, open your arms and let us lay, so warm in there…

Yes dear friend, I have come today, I present you my Mr. F, he is so will to write to you as well, quiet in the hell our confessions can be felt, cold or burning air, Mr. F has this particular condition, when the demons attack in the emptiness, hell poetry is our essence, there, where there is no compassion for being ourselves, there were punishment comes as irony and hits us in the vain, there is not much left, pockets are running out of verbs and I and Mr. F are facing the pollution of this body, of this look, of this hands of this hair. We are the decease that came out as fantasy, hell friend! I know it may hurt to see us like we are in this lands, it may hurt more than the eye can see, since there is even more deep inside of this plenty human being.

We are mortals here, dear, do not forget the philosophy.

I have to go now, or someone can catch me writing here, the silence is coming again and we will not stay in vane around here.

Coconut-skin, coming with Mr. F here
versión en español en construcción

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