2006

anywhere I roam...

...where I lay my head is home

Depeche Mode. HIM. In Flames. The Sandman. CAM/RAM. Champions League Finale. Bilbao Live Festival I. Bilbao Live Festival II. 22 years old. Laredo. Laredo-Barcelona, seat 61. The Rock. Maremagnum's wood floor I. II. Sweet Child O' Mine & Waiting For The Night. Over And Over. Barceloneta. Tarde simpática. 12th August. Pizza and Coke at 5PM. Probabilistics. Saint Seiya. Walking. Maths: 8. Guitar. Far Beyond. Coffee. The sunrise. Fried Noodelin Especial. Barcelona-Laredo + DJ Valeria. Jose Antonio Avenue. Bilbao.

"Welcome To The Jungle" - Guns N Roses

Memories II

...the blond girl brings summer back
this lights bring you back here
memory always remains
feedback and conection of Past and Present
a brand new, or renewed, feeling
places and situations that once were just facts become special
the highest tower is made of memories
the tower will never fall
any second can be special
any second can be the next brick in the tower
always under construction...

...because everything is a learning experience and nothing ever goes to waste...

"Chapter I" - Estatic Fear

Bilbao

[Fire in the water in front of the Guggenheim museum]

...someday...

Jose Antonio Avenue

"...nada queda de las vueltas que el tiempo nos dió..." ("...nothing remains from the turnings of life...")

It's funny how something can even change the perspective of a place that you walked by each day for so many years. So familiar. So well-known.

"...y es tan frágil la voz, y es tan débil que soy..." ("...and the voice is so frail, and I'm so feeble...")

All the lines, though infinite, do have a starting point. All the circles, though they never end or break, do have a point that has more ink: the point where someone started drawing it. Sometimes, that place is not so precise, hard to locate or situate in the map of memory... but there are times when that particular starting point is a physical and tangible place... you can go back there anytime, draw it or take pictures of it if you wish to. Now, here, I observe that starting point. A place where I spent so many years, somehow a big and important part of who I am now; one long street, the bus station, some swings, parked cars. A starting point, the first point of this circle, of this line. It's like if in this particular place on Earth I could condense my life... my past joins my present. This was the beginning.

[...] In the same way, this moment, this "now", will be kept in the memory too with Bunbury's music in the background and the echo of a voice I don't want, or even know how, to forget. Eternal Present. This is where everything began. Turning points. I never thought this particular and familiar place would ever be this special, never thought this place will ever be where Destiny would put another important turning point in my life. This is maybe why anytime I stare at some place for quite a long time I wonder if, in some uncertain future, it will acquire a whole new, and special, meaning. Just like this. This is where the circle where I am now started... and it'll "never end or break".

Jose Antonio Avenue. Laredo (Cantabria).

[...]

"The path of excess leads to the tower of wisdom" - William Blake.

"The pleasure of satisfying a savage instinct, undomesticated by ego, is uncomparably much more intense than the one of satisfying a tamed instinct, the reason is becoming the enemy that prevent us from a lot of possibilities of pleasure" - Freud.

Kysel I

She told me about her grandmother, about things going or not going on when it rains, about the sound of a guitar, about how clouds painted the sky drawing strange figures... and everything seemed to be so real. In fact it was. All the drawings existed, they were kept there, in the glass cabinet. The glass cabinet was high enough so the Sun wouldn't ruin them all at dawn, when it drew a rainbow in the carpet thanks to the light refraction in one of the cupboard polyhedral handles. Somehow, having this mixture of lights, everything looked like a dream and even the vapour when breathing made freezing cold something idyllic. Wind got in through the crack opened doors. It was that kind of sound that as soon as you heard it once it became engraved in your memory and from then on any vague and remote similarity with it in any other place would make you visualize that particular light so clearly. She never played guitar there because it was too cold but she always went there to translate into inspiration the reflections of the glass cabinet because they condensed past and present. And maybe future too. Because in the flowing of Present, though unintentionally, some glimmers, or maybe longings, of the Future do filter. As they do in the drawings of the glass cabinet.

Eternal Present

While you think the world keeps on turning with its sorrows and longings... its willing to remember more than what really befell, of prevent itself from get lost in grieving spirals full of circumstantial windings. There's something you sense... a cosmic reflection of a telepathically shared thought and a maybe subjunctive, maybe future tense will talk with bright words... memories will be Preset and will build a castle by your side full of nooks to be discovered... because, you know what? there's something that made time stop, with the sound of the waves, and those minutes were kept in a sand case, condensed in words, in the five, or six, or seven, senses, and such a valuable thing this is that was beyond any tense... "atemporal" became such a small adjective and it turned into Eternal Present so, now, any minute could be the next.

"El Lado Oscuro Del Corazón 2"

"...horizontal gravity does exist too, it's the gravity that life follows, it makes you older... it's much more dangerous than vertical gravity..."

"...for Time just Past does exist, Future it's its Present..."

"... I, Time, am the banker of your greatest fortune: your memories..."

- "El Lado Oscuro Del Corazón 2" (Eliseo Subiela, 2001).