Regreso

 

Works and Texts  scattered the room, everything from Barthes to Deleuze, philosophers, know it all’s, pretentious. Each and every one. He sought meaning from them and they always told him he was wrong.

He lay on his back, watching the La Ventilador  turn and hating himself.

He couldn’t help it.

It was too easy to say the right things make the right gestures, no matter how wrong they were. Going round and round.

Repeating the cycle

Repeating the cycle

Repeating the cycle

Repeating the cycle

Repeating the cycle

Repeating the cycle

Trapped. Bashing Against the Walls.

She lay next to him. Her slow breathing and warm body a shallow comfort against the pain he knew 

was coming. Days or weeks it didn’t matter, there would be a fight, he’d get bored, shed go away, he’d run out of options, shed get fed up……..always something new.

He wanted to escape, but the TOURIST, only had a few others. Language barriers, traditions, money, and eons kept him separated from the world around him. This was not his place. Merely a temporary stopping place. A short respite in the circle of life. Walled off and separate a point in time meant to be your own.

“Mi Amor” he whispered into the dark. The language had crept into his vocabulary just like this life and these people had encroached bit by bit into territory that was his.

She stirred next to him. He turned over and looked at her. Beautiful. He made a decision. “YOLO” he shouted a pushed that bitch outta bed.

 http://thesunarisen.blogspot.com/

Estrellas y Amor

 

Walking

Walking

Walking

Walking

Occasionally stopping for sustenance, some tapas here,

A bite of Pan or Queso the next time his stomach rumbled.

Simple water accompanied every meal.

The sun strolled along with him. He kept the time by his shadow and the appearance of those around him.

School children leaving for class in the morning, joggers and business man up and about around noon, the children return crying their delight to be freed from their paper and pen prisons. As the sun sets and his shadow is long behind him he continues through the park, lovers and families stroll, and as the sun nestles down in the city’s skyline, more sinister figures emerge to populate the night.  He knows when he comes to the end of this journey he must make a decision. He can see it in the distance coming closer. He is almost out of time. She’ll be waiting for him like he asked her.

Did he dare face his shame and swallow his pride?

He had run and hid doing his best to escape the bright stars, his lover shining among them.

He would hurt her again he felt. This constant going back and forth pulling away only to pull her closer a moment later healed no wounds and took no steps forward.

Estrellas. The stars. They shone bright once more in the clear sky. He could see her in the distance by their light. Watching the children she wished she could have leave the park as the night came suddenly; probably regretting every decision she ever had regarding him.

He grew close.

She turned at the sound of his approach.

He softly said her name.

http://thelakehouseoffloverslane.blogspot.com/

El Bosque

   Shouts and screams cut through the soft haze of sleep that surrounded the tourists muddled brain. Dreams scattered and chased each other away as he awoke. The sun had risen and ushered in a new day. A pelota bounced in front of him. He followed the school children, off from classes for the holiday, pursue the ball through the long swaths of grass filling the park.

He stumbled to his feet and continued on his way.

                High walls of trees grew up and shrouded him. He walked in the shade and felt like he was in a jungle. As he descend deeper into this seeming heart of darkness his aching and tired body began to relax. In this wilderness he didn’t feel out of place. All the places of the world contained regions like these. Big cities and small towns. Slip away and never be found.

              

               He had seen many of these. Paris,  London, Frankfurt and Venice all had places to slip away and feel at home. Here he could feel as if she never existed. With him always , caring for him, loving him wishing him all the best. He didn’t deserve it. She was waiting for him. Worried about him. He had left her and disappeared. Shame he was and shame he would always be.

 http://voguein1.blogspot.com/

Cauce del Río

          The TOURIST shuffled down the steps of the tower. Each foot not stepping, but sliding forward to allow gravity to drag its tired matter to the next platform. The night had been long.  The steps were littered with litter. The risings suns pale yellow highlighted the reflective, shiny bits of the scattered debris. The cans, bottles, and brightly colored wrappers of the nights festivities. Small pops sounded throughout the city as those with the endurance, stupidity, or the right drugs continued into the next day.  40 OZ AMSTEL went ringing down and alley way as his foot brushed it aside. Turning right he reached la Calle. The tired feet continued across. A park lay before him. Long and narrow, the remnants of a once mighty river. Scattered throughout the trees like Hellenic nymphs and fawns lay lovers. Looking like so many scattered pebbles. Each a lump off lusterless opaque. A bench beckoned and he answered. He set to light his last cowboy killer in the pack. The lighter sparked three times as he struggled with weary fingers to work the mechanism.   He gave up, head leaned back cigarette dangling on the precipice of pale lips. 

                 

Light filtered through leaves, descended on his closed eyes, as the first soft, wheezy snore rumbled out of him.

Comienzo

                 

               El Mar  hid behind the soft haze of the city’s bright lights and night time smog.  It seemed if you leaned over the railing it would be almost visible from the top of the tower, hiding behind the soft brush strokes of the distant high-rises and tenement buildings. The city couldn’t stifle the stars however. They shone bright and clear overhead, broken only by the occasional plane or stray firework either cast by accident or by too eager revelers,  straining to cut loose from the normal ties of daily life and take part in their week of debauchery.

                If he turned he knew he would see the distant foothills and not-quite mountains in the distant countryside purple and majestic against the Spanish sky. They slept silently, unaware of the growing and seething turmoil that was about to be unleashed beneath them.  Voices from below reached up from the distant ground. A smooth glance down revealed a growing crowd, drunken shouts and stumbles were matched side by side with dignified and ancient Falleras garbed in the dress of their ancestors, all eyes were turned to the night sky. Twelve times the church bells rang , proclaiming the storms arrival. The hush that followed was ripped open with screeches, whistles and screams as the still and blank night sky was painted with joyous explosions. Fallas had come to Valencia.