Floor Heating Airlock

knowledge


Knowledge is an endless staircase
You can be the first steps
O closest to that room
mysteriously closed millennia.
However, Ni
those below
not those above
may never get into it because when you arrive


will realize that neither one nor the other
have found the key.

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are much more than DOS

This poem is really incredible ... seem that the poet had been for a second in my heart, feeling carefully to what your heartbeats transmitted by the love of my father ....

Since his departure, I confess it hurts me even in the depths of my soul ... there are times I feel very lonely ... fighting amid a tide of corruption and indifference ... but when spring from my desires, or a dream, which fought tooth and nail ... and I start to reap the fruits delicious ... very clear to me that I'm not alone ... that the presence of that being in my blood, which I admired, supported and trusted me fully in my ... is always with me ...

The poem describes clearly and precisely the relationship I had with my father ... our relationship was always friendly, and total complicity ... I experienced firsthand what a beautiful link can be done in the spirit of a person ... so my great interest that the parents of my patients live in the same way with their children ... those little things that are concrete and living extension of her very being ....

The transcendence of the spirit is incredible ... I carry in mine the essence of my father ... and my children take my essence, and his grandfather ... always in every step, every dream, every desire ... My little Adda

Sofia constantly mentions his grandfather, and it is incredible that relates miss it even without having met him ... and that every act of my life is this ... as in every act of the circumstances of my little Sophie and Rafa, I find reflected in them ... and I find reflected ... although each has its own personality, its own dreams and desires ... but my story and my father are the prologue you start your own ... as the story of my father was the prologue of mine ...

Thus are sown the future ... with my present and my past .... and these days that I cling to happiness, but not permitted me ....

'm happy ... no doubt ... I have my father with me ... my love, my accomplice and everything ... that definitely WE ARE MORE THAN TWO ....

A kiss to all.

AND FRATERNAL ABRAZO GABY MY DEAR FRIEND ... WITH ALL MY HEART IN these difficult times .... THIS SONG IS FOR YOU ....

I LOVE

Mario Benedetti

Your hands are my caress

my everyday line

love you because your hands

work for justice

if you want it is because you

my love, my accomplice and all

and on the street side by side

we are more than two

your eyes are my spell

against bad day

love you for your look

looking and future planting

your mouth that is yours and mine

your mouth not mistaken

love you because your mouth

rebel yell know

if you want it is because you

my love, my accomplice and everything

and on the street side by side

we are more than two

and for your sincere face

and your step Tramp

and your tears for the world

people love you because you're

and because love is not halo

or moral candid

and because we are family

who knows she is not alone

want you in my paradise

ie in my country

people be happy

even without permission

if you want it is because you

my love, my accomplice and all

and on the street side by side

we are more than two .

Altermatives Adderall

About apathetic

Listen with your ears the sounds of a deaf mute later, the predominant blackness of walls about to vanish and turn into thousands of particles of dust down on soft surfaces, bras ridiculous materia.Y cracked glass one of them, to see through it, with its near-blind eyes, sky rusty dripping on tarmac, and drowning in ponds at a bird with no beak and wings that lies dying in a dark corner, unnoticed by those who pass by his side, without even notarlo.Toda the hope that once used to be muse today is so distant and remote as appreciated and admired a landscape from a photograph without color, so elusive to the touch and taste like a dream interrupted, incomplete feeling left eager to own, transforming him into a being dissatisfied and empty, with high aspirations to the fullness that never finished their knowledge or more valid attempt.
see what remains of humans. The notes go, forcing the poor view and extremo.Van come without a certain direction are being disregarded, the impact their body masses merge into one and then horrible monsters that emerge from melting bodies with several feet and hands, and horrible mouths begging to be fed. Hungry, they begin to devour their own flesh, limbs are torn, and incomplete bodies crouched walk, crawl, crawl. It impressed a bit with the carnage, although the weather has become more insensitive to the everyday, which senses sleep anesthesia in situations of physical pain that would otherwise be intolerable, the interior has been dormant and no longer able to remain conscious of everything. Close
glassy eye with eyelids cracked fabric, light la luz y busca ese otro vidrio plateado que refleja el adentro.Allí puede observarse a sí mismo y a su entorno. No ve más que las paredes sucias encerrando un cuerpo ya sin forma, “¿Cómo es que entré aquí?” No se reconoce del todo, encuentra quizá un leve parecido en la mirada, mas ésta mucho más apagada, sin aquel fulgor que su memoria le trae como un difuso recuerdo.
Y entonces, una cadena de imágenes del pasado comienzan a sucederse, una tras otra, en el interior de su mente.Y allí están el campo verde con sus grandes árboles, y un cielo despejado con pájaros volando en él, y gente caminando de la mano, algunos riendo, otros comunicándose. Una casa con paredes white, and one of them a huge window overlooking the lake, children running and playing, a warm smile on a woman's face, a group of phonemes out of his mouth and he is moved, a mirror that shines bright in the corner the room, and in it the reflection of a hopeful man, a man almost full.

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SICK SWAN

A dying swan in a palace surrounded.

A swan mysterious silken robe

That instead of slipping into the mainstream

leda

are tired of looking tight space.

The swan is a sick man who worships the God of Gold;

Sun's father races his agony

fruitful

So sadness is a symphony

of flowers are opened in the shade of weeping.

have chest crossed by a dagger crazy,

blood Drop by drop diluted in the lake

and blue waters under the magician

love

rubies Power of distilled its wrong.

The soul of this swan is a sensitive ...

not raise the voice on the side of the pond

If you do not want the swan with the peak starting

holding the knife was there illegally. They

old legends that are sick of love.

That big heart has been a hundredfold

And that is in the core as the crucified

A pain that encompasses all human pain.

And the legends it is a swan-poet ...

That magic has anointed rate

throat

And sing because yes, as the stream sings

Crystal Rhyme your current worries.

I dreamed one night in the old palace

swan was tired of looking at space.

Alfonsina Storni

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Fragmentations

I do not like talking about myself, but of tiny portions of life that work as a whole, small molecular gears that perform tasks innate, never cuestionan.Materia gray bow down to their organic chemical buffoons, and shapes them through a movement or a nervous reaction, never my , but those t-nfimas parts of life that serve as the All . I can only recognize as a sponge that absorbs the outside. The environment around me, yes, is me-o, but not the ways to assimilate and respond to él.Yo'm not who controls me, I am the means by which power an inordinate amount of entities of different f-foward . They all expressed through the figure grouped up, which is visible to the outside as a body, like the sponge . What conveys the look is not only what was subordinated to show, what the audible voice is a message that forced compartir.Ahora, someone tells me to write these lines, show me and puts words in a particular order under the action of the hand that the outside looks like me-a, but in reality they . I obey, but I would like to grow other hands in this body, hands I belong , and flow down the sponge to be emptied of any content to leave it in its primitive state.

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The ship

Amarras consciousness as a small boat

and enter the dream as he is crossing the river

lying on the warm sand of the shore

Everything happens

any browser in the waters of silence

Grow plants

women ovulate

Madura preparapara the fruit and a new sunburn

nails grow

wise grows hair on the skull of the Palpa

crazy pregnant women - how much love, the future murderer who is growing in her womb

Palpa his cancerous tumor

moans of love the lonely wails

sated by love that is loved by two tour

the moon in its orbit

Turn the earth

All hearts resound with force

and ring the heart of the world

wake again You raise the ship, everything shines

You know why

Someone from the bank

see you go.

Efraín Bartolomé

Ucoz Tamplate English

Of the three transformations

Three metamorphoses of the spirit you mention: how the spirit becomes a camel, the camel a lion, the lion, finally in niño.Hay many heavy things for the spirit, the spirit strong, patient, which inhabits the veneration demand strength heavy things, and even the heaviest of all. What is heavy? and asks the patient spirit, and kneels, as the camel, and he wants to be charged either. What is the heaviest heroes? and asks the patient spirit, that I bear it and rejoice in my strength. Is not it: humble to do harm to one's pride? Doing one's folly shine to mock one's wisdom? Or is it: away from our cause when it celebrates its victory? "Climbing high mountains to tempt the tempter? Or is it: alimentary on acorns and grass of knowledge and starve the soul by the love of truth, or do it this: being sick and sent to ride dildos, and make friends with deaf, who never hear what you want? Or is it: immersed in dirty water when it is the water of truth, not away from cold frogs and hot toads? Or is it: love those who despise us and reach out to the ghost when he wants to frighten us? With all these things, the heaviest of all, load the patient spirit: like the camel that runs into the desert with its load, and run it to their desert. But in the loneliest desert, the second metamorphosis occurs: here is transformed into a lion spirit, wants to win their freedom as a conquered prey, and be master in his own desierto.Aquí looking for his last master: wants to become an enemy of him and his last god, the great dragon wants to fight for victory. Who is the great dragon which the spirit is not to keep calling lord and god? You must! is called the great dragon. But the spirit of the lion says I love you!. You must! you tight, shines like gold, is a scaly animal, and each of its scales shine áureamente the "You must!". Valores thousand years glitter on those scales, and the mightiest of all dragons speaks thus: "All the values \u200b\u200bof things-glitter on me." All values \u200b\u200bhave already been created, and I am-all created values. Indeed, there shall be no 'I will'. "Thus says the dragón.Hermanos mine, what is required to have the lion in the spirit? Why not just the beast of burden, which renounces and is reverent ? create new values, not the lion is still able to do: create more freedom for new creating-that if you are able to do the power of freedom and león.Crearse not even facing the holy duty: to do so, my brethren, león.Tomarse need the right to new values-that is taking more horrible for a patient and respectful spirit. In truth, it is for him to steal, and proper thing rapiña.En an animal spirit once loved the "thou shalt" as their most holy thing: now must find illusion and caprice even in the most holy, so be free to steal his love for this robbery león.Pero accurately tell me, my brothers, what can the child do that even the lion could not do? Why must the preying lion still become a child? Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a game, a wheel that moves by itself, a first movement, a holy sí.Sí, my brothers , for the game of creating a sacred "is required if: the spirit now wants the will, removed from their world conquest now mundo.Tres changes I have mentioned the spirit: how the spirit became a camel, the camel a lion, the lion, finally, into a child.

[from Thus Spake Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche]

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Freedom

Freedom is one of the most profound of human beings: Resume, in a way, previous features, because it decides this, guides and underlies the future, and above all is the self. Be determined, in effect, would not be yourself, it would be a simple reflection of the world, a meeting point and a resultant of natural forces. Individuality is given, the person affirms and freedom. What, then, is the free action? First of all is an absolute beginning, an irrational act, therefore, in the sense that it can not be predicted or explained by reason, the whole logic of the world is powerless to deduce the decisions of one man. It is also a choice, which means that in the presence of an alternative is chosen one of the exclusion of the other members. Perhaps it is possible to overcome the contradictions and overcome everything by the Hegelian dialectic at the level of pure speculation, but certainly in the plane of existence that's yes or no. Finally, and this allows us to penetrate in the depths of freedom: the act of choosing something, whatever it is, basically you choose one yourself. Freedom, then, is chosen: for a party consent to be what it is, be yourself, and secondly in trying to become what is not. But the two aspects overlap, actually coincide, since the being of man is becoming. Freedom appears as a tension of being to itself.

[Lessons on existentialism, Roger Verneaux]

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Welcome / as!

Having tried without success to express myself through different virtual media whose primary functions appear is far from the needs of literary expression such as fotolog (which lets you enter a few characters and texts always cut in half) and facebook (which is full of trivial applications to my taste), I finally decided create this blog, with the idea of \u200b\u200bsharing some excerpts from novels and writing in general that I have marked and captured throughout my youth, as well as to publish some of my writings to share with those who have willingly want to read.
Writing is my form of catharsis, and read is often my way of abstracting the world.
believe that art in general, is the only way human beings have to transcend the limits of matter. Human beings are small, mortal, perishable, but the art is timeless.
I hope the site will enjoy it, and I'll try to update often.
Successes and best wishes to all those who take the time to go.