.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Sep 26, 2005

I Cut Her

Can a person be considered a coward while trying to be a hidden hero?


Can a hidden hero be a public muse while trying to avoid it?


Can a public muse be a creator at the same time?


Can a creator still be seen as the most sensual mother?


Can the most sensual mother become the sweetest child?


Can the sweetest child be inspired by the most sensual mother?


Can the most sensual mother be captive of a stranger alien and a killer curiosity?


Can a stranger curiosity suggest violence with an innocent film cutter?


Can an innocent film cutter convert an editing room into unforgettable scenes?


Can unforgettable scenes be made just by bodies and whispers?


Can bodies and whispers negotiate different spaces when they want the same space?


“Que tenga un dia bello”, she told me with a tender voice. An unconditional friend sung to us while he smiled. We also smiled although we had to say goodbye. After an intense hug I cut her in the editing room. A red drop was seen until I spliced her again with a second hug even with more affection and desire. Inside the editing room… I thought about her day and night, and I watched her a thousand times. Outside the editing room… I want to see her again.

Sep 15, 2005

Empty Mirror


I can’t find you in your home
because you have no home anymore.
I can’t look at you through your mirror
because you have no mirror, no more…

I tried to dream about you
and I touched your dry and smooth skin.
But the nightmare flooded you
and your family. What is your sin?

The news and the Exodus bore my heart
and my own water also floods my home,
I can’t be there or here, I’m falling apart.
I have no direction, I just can roam.

Teddy bears, promises, regrets, food or money:
Nothing is enough.
I need you, I’m egoist… sorry.
I just want your laugh.

Alone I feel I’m nobody,
so I go for you with my boat.
I feel the death, I’m petrified.
I want to have hope, but even she is horrified.

I can’t find you in your home
because you have no home anymore.
I can’t look at you through your mirror
because you have no mirror, no more…

The only mirror is mine.
Its surface always shines.
But when I stand in front of it,
I can’t see your face, I can’t see mine.


Dedicated to all Katrina's victims. We can lose everything except our hope and memory.