Improvised piece

Mutual looks

and the strategy from a brief kiss.

Open secrets,

lost words

in the middle of a trip

we just can dream.

Our songs

don`t need a fast tempo,

observe the time go by

enclosing fears,

playing chance´s caress.

Travelling by train

She got into the train with a haughty expression and cold look. She was a lady not more than thirty years old but the grey hair and seriousness moved her away far from youth life. Dressed up in dark colors and the hair collected in a braid. She didn't take any luggage because was thinking to come back home the same night. Chose a seat close to the corridor and left her briefcase close to the window. She took the laptop and some papers and during the six hours traveling, she didn´t get up.

The rest of the passengers have enjoyed the sunrise and the colors drawing north's Spain, but she only moved away her eyes from the laptop to get some more papers from the briefcase. However, three minutes before arriving at her destination it seemed she woke up, her entire body started to react. She breathed in deeply, hung her head while swallowed saliva. Her look went slowly to the landscape. Her fingers were floating close to the keyboard.

Behaving as in hypnosis, she picked up her belongings and got off from the train. Her brother and nephews were waiting for her at the station. For the first time, she treated her nephews with affection. In the car to the village, she was looking at everything with the curiosity of someone who discovers a new world, just the difference that was living there for almost twenty years... even when she didn't come back since then... Maybe she could stay one more day. Maybe that was more important than she wanted to recognize.

The light in the sand

She was looking at it into the distance. It was shining due to the sun but it seemed no one noticed its presence. Blanca had been walking for hours before arriving at the beach. Exhausted, she sat down into a bench looking far away from the calm sea. A gleaming point in the sand caught her attention. She tried to ignore; there was other important stuff to think about.

People walked through the beach just only a few centimeters far and anyone reacted. Her eyes were now just concentrated onto that light. Blanca advanced feeling his body trapped by the glow. She bent down and observed it with curiosity. It was a silver clef into a thread as a necklace. Blanca stretched her hand and felt an electric shock when the index finger grazed its surface.

Everything changed after that.

To celebrate

They insisted on making a big party due to his birthday, that everyone became older and shouldn´t have been embarrassed. He agreed with the last sentence. Furthermore, he liked his grey hair even with his only thirty years old. However, he didn´t want to organize and/or participate in any celebration related to that day. He thought about parties connected with a personal reason: his first article published, the start of his work in that alternative magazine, living by himself or just the friendship.

He believed parents should have honored on that date, they were suffering from every cold, from every heart or body damage, from every wrong decision,... and most of the times didn´t receive anything in return. Moreover, no one can decide when to born, what´s the achievement on that day?

He didn´t feel anything and was used to be called rude, to invent the most strang reason to be on his own. Finally, he was right.

He knew about his adoption and felt lucky with his parents. Working in another paper sheet discovered that he was really born one month and a half later than the official day, coinciding with the anniversary of his third photography exhibition. He started to celebrate his birthday with people but his real reason was another. It didn´t matter. It was just a friendship party.

The moment of truth

We shared silences,

promises.

We breathed the same air,

wind which took all doubts.

Went up through the stage,

screens through life.

We get lost together,

came back

and still were there.

Together

over the cliff edge.

Together

hugging time.

Together

and the fog arrived.

Exhalation,

less than a whisper.

Affection confine.

Oblivion shakings.

Empty exchanges.

The moment of truth:

smoke.

Christmas tree

The flowers were sleeping for a while and then disappeared. No one did it and the memory of its presence became oversight. No one talked about it and the walls, which they were decorated with the life´s light in the last months, were finally cover with funeral black.

To anyone that could have been the end. If nobody wanted to do an effort and draw a thin color line, nothing else was supposed to be discussed.

However, one day someone (whom no one asked who was) bought a flowerpot. A week after another person delivered a pine cone, someone put both things together and then the first Christmas ornament. A second one and third one appeared later. After a while, the Christmas tree was completely decorated even when that festive period was still far away.

To anyone that could be rubbish, seedy and without sense, but it was their tree, the reason why white became white again, always with shades, with some stormy days and other radiant days, because the wind changed the weather as quickly as no one was able to control. After all, they were living inside their home. And the flowers... were still sleeping somewhere else.

Sleeping flowers

They eagerly arrived like amateurs. Even though they didn´t know each other, they made an effort to improve their teamwork and to turn the white coldness walls into a family environment where feeling comfortable. Their world was about smile together and enjoy the silence.

The smokes of the city arrive soon, seeping in through the windows and changing slowly the white into grey. No more sweet words nor affection. It wasn´t any specific stuff but everything.

In the middle of the living room, a flowerpot that lived better times. However, none of them dare to pronounce the word "died". They were taking care of it thinking about its sleepiness although everyone would have denied it.

It was the tale they need to believe in to survive...

To be continued.

Why across the mirror?

The word power

connected with the world.

Love,

true

in crystal lips.

No rules.

No limits.

Enjoy

the other part of the reality.

It´s call poetry.

Why day by day?

Sometimes courage is necessary if you don´t want to settle in the routine. Society is cruel and turns down your way of life, first with the "weird person" title and then with the absolute abandon. I refuse and condemn it. I´m odd and I like. You won´t hear that in person, I´ll bite my tongue, but before getting poisoned I´ll take off the venom.

Why by the eyes?

It´s not my main point of attention but there´s something that catches me. Probably that´s why I did my degree in Media Studies. German, Japanese,... it doesn´t matter the nationality, but I´m really interested in the low-cost Spanish ones.

Why paper and pencil?

I ignore it for a long time. Ana opened my eyes hopefully. My father´s persistence wasn´t necessary.

I started in a boring summer that it wasn´t in the end. Wonderful writing afternoons between dreams and wishful thoughts. The pencil has been my best weapon and the paper is my trusties allies.