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dream of flying unicorns and clouds that do not know mourn. With street lights that turn on headlights and save the world from shipwrecks.

You

clouds while you trim old scraps of fabric, paint unicorns with your brushes, and you put bulbs in all lamps that are not wrecked my dreams ...

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color

NOTE: "I leave a trail of beat colors, if you choose to find me. I do not get very far, I have a broken heart, and you know that I was never good seamstress. But I will not stop walking ... pockets full of brushes for no heartbeat is blank, to paint a smile and hug when the storm fade. And you know I never liked the umbrella. "

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After plucking daisies hundreds of thousands of pairs, concluded that had the wrong garden. He took out a pocket map restless eyes and a heart full of hope, looking odd garden daisies.

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Filling gaps

give away your sand a thousand watches trying to deceive the time, aho ra your restless wave do not see the shore. Clueless the lighthouse without replacement bulb, waiting for the keeper . The keeper lost the traces back in time on your watch sand.

sea Scared old fisherman waiting to tell a story.

Fisherman lost at the time of the clock sand ...

sand gives him an empty a clock without time empty the sand with your hands ... and fill it time lived ...

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A GREAT WEEKEND.

The murmur of the sea touches lightly on the other side of the window. A while ago I put aside my dreams, and I preferred to look like Maku grips with force to the last three minutes, that will make the alarm sounds. I open the curtains wide. I expected to see a blinding sunlight, tremendous heat stroke hit me full in the face. But all I found was a gray sky, which have escaped the clouds and the blue color. Trust ye never ask the weather man, let alone the internet sites where you predict the weather.

After a long shower we went down to breakfast. The hotel "Rovira is a good place to stay. The treatment is extremely familiar, and is beachfront. Milk, juice, a mini ham spread with tomato and danone ... A great breakfast. The huge aquarium fish decorating the room, stick to the glass to say goodbye.

The beach is completely deserted. Maku, waves and me. It is best to visit the sea out of season. No hassles of people seeking a place to stick the umbrella. No need to try to make the same picture a thousand times because you get into the frame 10 or 11 people who do not know anything.

not every day a beach is completely at his feet. Occasionally, crosses in front of us any athlete jogging, or people without more, requires the newfound embrace of the sea spring. My body is totally relaxed. Finally I find what I came for, my drink of peace. Completely disconnected from the routine. When cutting the long-sleeved winter. Maku still looking for his drink of sun. We are duty. We take to shoot some photos. I was barefoot, I feel free. A sailboat crosses the horizon. Cuesta distinguish where the sea ends and where the sky begins.

hunger comes in waves. The apple mid morning we have burned long ago. We get rid of any sand, and headed to the boardwalk in search of a place to eat. Cambrils back to life. The terraces begin to fill with people. The waiters approach us so we can eat at the restaurant, we finally decided on the least we insisted. Overwhelm me I can not stand to let in to eat at one place or another. Looking at the sky without success a little sun. Find the light in the eyes of Maku. He's happy, it could touch the sky just to raise my hand to see her like that. The waitress, a very nice French, we serve the food. I decide to chicken salad, and golden. To our right two guiris a tiny taste paella. From the back of the restaurant the smell of fresh prawns griddled puts us long teeth. I'm hungry.

Return to the hotel to rest. The coast consumes energy depletes you, relaxes you so much that seems to relocate here for weeks. After falling prey to a brief slumber, we approach the new arena. We strolled through the port. We dream of one day live aboard one of the yachts that grace the stop. I love to live in the sea. It is a dream that lives in me forever.

ended up in the shopping area, and finally retired my old portfolio.

The night wins gradually Saturday. Village streets are once again deserted. We return to the restaurant. The huge aquarium is unmoved. Fish play to get from one place to another glass. Two lobsters with rubber bands on their claws, we nailed the look. They're horrible. The body asks us soup. We called sepia. Salad. A straw. Why did you eat at this hotel. We miss

elevator up to our room. The room is rather small. Old air. Restored old furniture that do not hit anything with the plasma television. On the other side of the window on Sunday promises sun. Prisoners fall sleep with the time change on hand.

SUNDAY.

Eight-fifteen. Yesterday at this time was seven-fifteen. Today evenings later. Sunday does not fulfill its promise. Cloudy dawn again. After breakfast, we left the hotel, and left the suitcase in the car. Suddenly the sun's rays begin to caress her back. The sky bluish gray, and a legion endless clouds warns us that the sun will be hanging up there very quickly. We crossed the avenue and took the opportunity to take a walk along the shore and sit down to admire the grandeur of the sea. My body will take no more than six months without stepping on the sand. It is vital to me as breathing. I have the luck to have married a person who loves the beach almost as much, or more than me. I'm leaving myself accompanying my eyes to the horizontal line marks the beginning of heaven. Here problems are easier to solve, it seems less severe. The breeze smells of freedom. Smells like "everything will be fine." A woman well on in years seems to think what I leaning on his cane. Maku smiles with his eyes closed, sighing to the sky thanks for this blast of heat. Two dogs chasing each other under the watchful eyes of a child who is learning to take their first steps. The beach is full of past, present and future.

The sun was tired of working and re-hiding behind the clouds. The breeze without it is ice cream. We decided to go eat something. The streets come alive. The sun plays out and hide. We do with a salad and croquettes at a local takeaway and eat near the port. We settled on the stairs that descend directly into the water. A guy runs his business from the mobile phone. Three young surfers looking skid on their bikes trying to show off before a group of girls. A boat sails out to sea in search of a better life (or so I imagine). We think also "sail" the way home. The clouds have returned to take over the sky, and we have almost three hours on the way home.
I get in the car with a handful of smiles falling from my pockets, despite the time, I enjoyed as a child of "my friend" the sea. I felt my thanks to the beach we off-season, and would recommend a trip to anyone who needs some peace.
weekend seeps through the rearview mirror. Maku's hand caress. Happiness filled my body drop by drop. Weekends like this make life larger.

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PROBLEM WITH THE BLOG.

Hi folks. I have a problem with the blog, from one time to this part will not let me upload more than one picture on the tickets. And I have three hours to climb three or four pictures, and no way. Is it just my blogger or you happen to anyone else? I look Awaiting your help, if you can clear. Thank you very much in advance.

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trying to draw a new heart and spilled ink faded scribbles time ... that simulate long fingers looking for the blue sky. Now I have to learn to live without a heart and a hole in your size embedded between the ribs.

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Two thousand tiles



Seeing is believing.
Separated by a door, lit
two thousand tiles
separating my lips of your voice. Through half-
hope
two tile thousand more,
... bitter reality ...
invited to follow
opening doors closing
dreams ...

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END OF THE COVENANT.

My pact with the devil has done. That youthful appearance that always characterized me is slowly petering out as an ice cube in a glass of water. My face begins to draw on itself over the years and has ceased to be hard not to see any wrinkle on my forehead. Live on my ears a couple of gray hairs that play hide and seek every time you look to pull them out. My body is changing. Before he could eat and eat and burn everything, as if by magic, all those calories disappeared from me .... and suddenly, overnight, in the morning, you wake up with your belly threatening you very seriously, while slowly repeated "I'm going to make me very very big" ... and you stare at your navel in the mirror, and that small abdominal curve, not too play with my skinny body. I'm very thin, always have been, and I think there is nothing more unsightly than a skinny kid with a belly. Posts to be belly, I prefer to be moderately obese, but not my body ... seriously threatens to become the very image of ET .. and there if that happened.

While waiting thirty sharpening their knives after the spring, I started running, and on Wednesday visited the endocrinologist for me to wear the proper diet. I think I can avoid becoming ET, but one day my face is full of experience, and my hair full of wisdom wrapped in white locks, and that's inevitable ... Fucking hell.

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HAIRDRESSERS.

few days ago I decided to cut my hair a little, you know, if I can not combed and well ... that if too long ... if I brows I look Blas, the Sesame Street. In short, I ended up in my usual hairdresser. Three girls working there, very Aterno them: a thousand piercings, cuts impossible in a very punk look. Two of them are usually in charge of my head and eyebrows. And frankly, have their days, but I usually always leave satisfied. That afternoon I met

Sara. The hairdresser that I had not even touched a hair.

"Today I'll cut your hair. We will first eyebrows. - Raised resigned look of "Rock de Luxe", and walked to the chair of torture.
"You know I always say the same ... but I really have not thought about buying one of those sprays that are a little bit of anesthesia?
"You're an exaggeration.

When I saw he picked up the pliers, the mirror Miguel began to turn blue.
-Eeeeeehh
I prefer to wax, and then and if it ends with pliers.
"I will be much better with tweezers .- And there ended the discussion. He began to pluck hairs one by one that blurred my eyebrows. The tears ran without any shame cheek below. I am convinced that in middle age, getting your eyebrows would have been a great torture. I clenched my teeth hard, pulls were slow and painful. My cries echoed within the four walls. The lady behind completely gorge laughed. Sara could not believe.
- So much it hurts?
"I hurt unless I stick a pin in an egg.
The salon became a movie with laughter. I stood dripping in the chair, one eyebrow done and over half done. I steeled myself, I pushed with all my strength the arms of his chair and finally heard the magic words: "Already."
"You see them well, or touch something. "I see them
perfect

with red eyebrows changed my couch and flipping my skull on the headrest, I felt her hands stroking my hair, then follow the water almost burns my ideas. I jumped off the couch and stood up with a cry full of pain.
- Whether you burn? -
"No, I love riding these numbers in salons. If you do not mind because I prefer to cut hair. I started looking around a hidden camera.
- How are you so short?
- I want to remove my side volume, and length of the top, but not much, that if I can not muss the hair well.
"I mean, I cut out of here so you will not be bulky and strut up to you so you can be messy. "That's
.- The thing was more than clear.
I finally relaxed. Reintroduced in the "Rock de Luxe." Liam Gallagher to set up a new band to look good. G men acting in Zaragoza on 1 April. Blink 182 may touch in Spain ...
- Are the pins the way you want? "I
downloads a bit and a tad closer, if not in two days look like the" Algarrobo ".
"Well, you're set.

raised my head from the magazine and saw a guy in the mirror stubborn, with an ultra short hair, eyes, trembling, and shaking the look of someone who is about to lie to mourn. I stroked my head looking disheveled locks ... There was nothing to comb. My face was bigger, my head was bigger. Everything was great about the length of my hair, which were dying under my soles.
- But you've seen what you've done with my head? You're not a hairdresser. You're Edward Scissorhands - The laughter of customers fill the salon again.
"Well, I think you looks good, goes well with the shape of your face.
"Do not worry Michael, you will grow very fast. This court does not collect what you intervened .- the head of the salon. "Almost
pluck me eyebrows, I've burnt the head, and I've left the hair look smooth coconut popeye ... Best of all is that I leave here and you're going to be very wide.
"But I do not see it so bad.

is not the first time something happens to me in a hairdresser. In just 30 years of my life my hair has been under the scissors for more than a "gardener." If you know a good hairdresser in Zaragoza me know, would you do me a favor. Meanwhile, wait under my cap to my hair growing back ...

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JAPAN.

Mother Nature back to bite. Drowning thousands. Forever burning the rest of the lives of survivors. Japan raises his arms for help. Japan giant sinks. The water sweeps away all that once was life. Television pictures show us the heartbreaking side of disaster ... shipwrecked vessels, buildings were falling like an ordinary house of cards, thousands of people looking for their piece of land, a piece of land where you can tie your life .... Mother Nature has once again laugh at the fiction. Indonesia, Haiti, Japan. I wonder when will the next time you get to explode. As the monster of the water seems calm down little by little, the memory of Chernobyl hell waiting for the next sitting corner. "The nuclear poison" rubbing their hands waiting for the Tsunami give the baton ....

Meanwhile .... here in our lives, we keep worrying about the same nonsense as usual.

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Until April 4, 2011.

I hope!

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Why did you give me sun

when what I hope is wind?

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Waiting for wind Drops of sunshine hooks

still catching fish on the shore, with no time, no rush, no past or networks of tomorrow baits. Someone ripped the heart one night and threw it into the sea ... he dreams of a fish with her eyes, her lips, her skin ... to return the heart and life ...

A more days with the empty bucket and a final beating caught on a hook ...

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great failures.

From the beginning I was sure that this was not going anywhere. You were very punctual, do not be afraid of commitment, and your family is pampered and watched. You had very clear where you would get there, follow the steps that had left your father and become a distinguished lawyer just because he thought I was ilusión.Yo too smart to waste my minutes on an art book. I needed to feel the sky above my hair, and the street was always my best sofa. Bridal going mother, and I was a free puppy that will overwhelm the collar. Your tightly. I escaped from there. You loved my reputation as a rebel, who embraced my sensibility reflected in my notebook. Hated the low esteem that would have him in my life. I still hear the hum of that train, fondling my back. If he had skipped half a second later, I would be writing this right now, from a very different place. But you know ... the street is the street, or jump, or you eat. If you knew how I feel now that, would smile with superiority. How did you each time you were right. Thought live the best history of the world, the ideal film ... "cute and good girl who falls in love with the boy rebel with feelings" .. You said that life was pink, and I looked gray.

actually lost so much time ... that time. You, me. The jump to that train. Your eyes glaze over when I left, the notebook that you talked about sinking into the sea. My "CDs" rolling down the street, and the subtlety with which you said you needed a normal boyfriend, less crazy. A guy can have fun at your disposal, capable of supporting your silly whim ... needed another person. A "love" ... I wanted to fall in love, but not you ...

All that ended snowball diluted on the way, because after all, we were only one way. A place where we should go through to get where we are today. Because if you'd ever been in my life, it is likely that today I found a very different place. Because if that winter night I get to jump out of your life, never would have ended up in that bar knowing Alex. Neither would have wanted to learn to play guitar. Not that I had submitted a couple of Argentines, or I would have enlisted in one of these pages "beeper" to find them again .... Those Argentines never appeared, but appeared along the way such "Maku" that changed my life forever.

Each of these disappointments. Each of these one day leaves fell from the tree of love. Each of those sleepless nights worried, thinking that we lost the love of our life. Every second of sadness at the heart shattered .... is a piece of road to be traversed to your true half. An indispensable place for which he had to pass, which had to suffer, and which come to it so beautiful that it is waiting.

This post is dedicated to my great failures. At all!. Because without each of you, dear frustrations, my journey would never have got here ... heartfelt thanks.

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Waiting

words of light,

the ink stained ... Ink ...

expect words of sun, light voice,

air drops,

storms of life. Expect clear

shadows, fading petals, loose leaves that are no longer ...

arms that embrace ...

fly into a sun stopped talking when he forgot it was sun and began to not be ... Words

sun

air drops,

storms of life ...

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I look.

light and light veils reinvented me, I get off and go back to reinvent ...

I watch, round out my profile, dyed black traces

and white shade.

I feel it.

I know near me

recognizes the handwriting and voice. Escape

windowless like flying without the sky.

are there in every hole without filling in every sound that continues ...

While watching

keys I keep inventing

to be locked up, the memories {} ...

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OF "RODRIGUEZ".

Two days, and your smell continues to walk from one side to another house. Your smile trying to escape that picture frame on the London eye, and loneliness is laughing at me with an outrageous success.
Wind vain attempt to erase your essence. TV loses interest if you're not here. My voice trails off since I walk through the front door. I am a piece of furniture. I've never lived alone, living with my family I went to live with. I'm not used to support the weight of the house on me. I do not know how to talk to your absence. I am dumb, I have a mouth full of empty words. Of I want you waiting for your kiss let them back out. The sofa is less comfortable. My dinner is burning, and no protest, and I miss that step grumbling about the kitchen leaving a trail of spots behind me. Noise lift me right, I do believe that advances your return by surprise, and when I look through the peephole, there is the neighbor in one of his endless trips to the storeroom. The night surrounds me, the moon also sit alone by the side of the glass. The dream plays on my door and let him pass. I brush my teeth, brush your absence hurts, but nothing hurt as much as seeing your side of the bed empty. I curl up between the sheets, bed cold complains another night, I seek your hand, smell your pajamas and close my eyes. The blind climb up passes up the reflection of the moon to keep me company one more night, last night. Because tomorrow will be back here, and finally back to being me.

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Past Silent Silent

Sometimes we in the silence we do not want to hear the words ...