"And yet, and yet … Denying temporal succession, denying the self, denying the astronomical universe, are apparent desperations and secret consolations. Our destiny is not frightful by being unreal; it is frightful because it is irreversible and iron-clad. Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges."
What can I hold you with? I offer you lean streets, desperate sunsets, the moon of the jagged suburbs. I offer you the bitterness of a man who has looked long and long at the lonely moon. I offer you my ancestors, my dead men, the ghosts that living men have honoured in bronze: my father's father...
I offer you explanations of yourself
"I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities I have visited."
“Me gusta la gente capaz de entender que el mayor error del ser humano, es intentar sacarse de la cabeza aquello que no sale del corazón”.
(Fragmento de “La gente que me gusta”)
"Entonces su sonrisa
si todavía existe,
se vuelve un arco iris."
„CHAMELEON AND PEACH FLOWERS“
The most beautiful things come.from mother nature
Thinking about u