dreamtigers

Nature study

Squirrel

A squirrel.. you have to be really gentle, because they are really nervous. Eating in one of the branches looking aroung, while I, behind the window take a picture of her, the tree and the really green yard in this first days of spring.

Poems

Some poems by Angel Gonz�lez, the translation its mine.

Twilight, Albuquerque, Winter

It wasn't a dream,
I saw it:

The snow was on fire

every love is ephemeral

No one was as beautiful as you
during the brief moment that I loved you:
my entire
Live.

Apothegm

There's no other solution:
If you really love Euridice
Go to hell
And never came back.

Snow

Days and days of dirty snow that doesn't quite melt. Cold days with too many cars, too many mud, to many wet socks. Finally a heavy storm transform all the landscape in a white sheet. We don't need to leave the house, only for today we can stay in and enjoy the blinding white from the window.

Beauty

She looks at me from the window. A stone cold beauty. She still remembers the last carnival, the last time somebody invited to her to dance. Is hard to tell, if she is sad or may be if she is just remembering the dance steps she made, the hand that took here waist, the kiss that somebody stole from her in the last hour of the night. I want to open the window and steel a kiss from here and may be the beads. Or may be I just want to dance with her, perhaps the next carnival I'll be here again and we can dance together.

Mask and glove

Soap

A ghostly light beam

I like old movie theaters. Closed who knows how much time ago, all the letters and lights in the sign are already lost or broke, all the kids that one day gather below that sign, probably are living far away and perhaps had already forgotten those days. Now is a dead building, the smoke little by little make the sign and walls darker. I almost can visualize the inside of this old theater, chairs like rotten corpses, a dirty screen, one day perfectly white. Dust all around and an old machine blind for ever looking throw that little window to the empty room. If you hear carefully you can hear an old machinery working, and if you look carefully you can se a ghostly light beam crossing the room, making appear the dust particles, and playing one more time that movie you already remember.

Bricks

I began using bricks to build stuff. Then I use smaller ones. And now to build stuff, I use the smallest ones of all: words.

Picture and leaves

There are always something interesting about a sobreexposed picture. A picture of somebody or something that now is forgotten by the picture. A mystery, a question, an unsolved puzzle. A blank picture is really similar like this leaves, they were someday part of something, but now yellow, wrinkled and wet just wait the garbage truck.