HAIKU

Frozen time hurts my face

A feeling lonely, peaceful

A winter started

Journal on 5th st. at GT

Today is december 12 and the cold weather start to noise my bons. I am at the 5th st. at GT and the weather is really cold and grey, it is like be inside a gigant fridge. I am trying to see the clouds but the feeling that I have is like a painter just erase all the clouds with a big brush or maybe he mix all of them, so I can not see the funny shapes of the summer clouds.

I can see cars, and people wearing funny hats, bout just few people I is not creowded. But I can hear. I can hear the cold freezing my ears and the sound of the buses passing and collecting people to protect them from the weather.

Also I can smell. The ice, and someone cooking on the fraternities. The ice smell like water and freez the brain, but the food smell like is going to be good.

I have feelings at the 5th st. at GT. feeling of sadness because I have not seen the sun. But my body can not feel because I am wearing a lot of clothes and my fingers start to feel the pain of being in contact with the begining of the winter.

Seating here...  I just wonder...

Why and when did the fraternities start?

How can people have a normal life with this weather?

Why do my ears hurts?

Can I really stay here for 15 minutes?

.................

My reflection is that the winter is sad, is dark, is grey and seens like it will be lonly...

IN MEMORY OF ANGEL CASTILLO

It is not fair that the heaven call our Angel. On the memory of all you will be for ever as a friend and excellent person.

by Kiarinna Parisi
translating from Spanish

I can hardly breathe without the emptiness hurts, close my eyes without remembering you,
Being in silence without hearing your voice mocking my sister ...
It hurts so much right now and I can not imagine what you guys are going through. I wish I could protect you my little children from this sadness, I wish I could feel everything for you, and avoid you have to go through this. I wish I could go back and change all because I do not want this to be happening.
It was very early, was unexpected, was unfair. No buts, no word that achieves them feel better, there is nothing more than time to heal this wound that will be a scar thatwill remind us every day this painful time.

Memories. In which we must grasp the desire, of them we have to make life, and honoring who did not want to go. Do not let his dreams and music will go also, keep them alive.
It was very early, was unfair. Today the sky has our Angel, rightly or wrongly but what if I'm sure is that he will mix the clouds, stars, sun and moon to give us music from wherever you are.

Texto Original

En memoria de Angel Castillo 
Me cuesta respirar sin que duela el vacío, cerrar los ojos sin recordar, 
Estar en silencio sin escuchar su voz burlandose de mi hermana...
Me duele tanto este momento y no puedo ni imaginar por lo que ustedes están pasando. Quisiera poder protegerlos de esta tristeza, quisiera sentirlo yo todo para q no sean ustedes los que hoy tengan que pasar por esto. Quisiera regresar el tiempo y cambiar todo pq no quiero que esto esté pasando. 
Fue muy pronto, fue inesperado, fue injusto. No hay peros que valgan, no hay palabra que logre hacerles sentir mejor, no hay nada mas que el tiempo para sanar esta herida que será una cicatriz que nos recordará a diario este doloroso momento.


Recuerdos. En ellos hay que aferrar las ganas, de ellos hay que hacer vida, con ellos hay q homenajear a quien no se quería ir. No dejen que su música y sus sueños se vayan tambien, mantenganlos vivos. 


Fue muy pronto, fue injusto. Hoy el cielo tiene a nuestro Angel, con razón o sin razón pero de lo que si estoy segura es que él, mezclará las nubes, las estrellas, el sol y la luna para darnos música desde dónde quiera que esté.

I HAVE A DREAM

PINTAME ANGELITOS NEGROS


Por Andrés Eloy Blanco


Si queda un pintor de santos,
si queda un pintor de cielos,
que haga el cielo de mi tierra,
con los tonos de mi pueblo,
con su ángel de perla fina,
con su ángel de medio pelo,
con sus ángeles catires,
con sus ángeles morenos,
con sus angelitos blancos,
con sus angelitos indios,
con sus angelitos negro,
que vayan comiendo mango
por las barriadas del cielo. 


PAINT ME LITTLE BLACK ANGELS
By Andrés Eloy Blanco


If is still existing a painter on the heaven ,
to make the sky of my country,
with the tones of my people,
with fine pearl angel,
Angel with middling
with his blonde angels,
with his burnet angels,
with his white little angels,
with his little indians angels,
with his little black angels,
that going eating Mango
from the slums of heaven.
(extract)

This is my dream, if is still existing a painter of saints,

this is my dream, to have equal opportunities, we have a righteous life where those who wish to pursue their dreams are the foundation and momentum, where there is no hatred or differences of race, religion or social status. Where appreciate those who have won things work and effort and encourage those who still do not understand that the future is built to work to turn their eyes to progress. I want to paint our angels as we feel they should be and that we all care and help us grow.

GOODBYE

Good bye Venezuela...

Goodbye to green vegetation, the beautiful blue beaches, fun and full of happy people.

Goodbye to the sound of birds and parrots in the morning and evening. Farewell to the barking of my dog, lively music goodbye to people singing in the streets and avenues.

Goodbye to the most rich and seductive chocolate, arepas, the pancakes, sweet pepper to taste and the richest food.

Goodbye to the aroma of coffee turns you on the senses.

Goodbye to the sand, the sun's heat to the feeling of the home, the embrace of the family to the warmth of friends ...

Goodbye Venezuela, where were my senses. 

Goodbye to the red of socialism, the color of hatred and death.

Goodbye to words of hate, denigration, insults, lies, broken promises.

Goodbye to sadness to feeling of dry mouth for much concern.

Goodbye, the smell of death, suffering people, the pain of a mother who loses her son.

Goodbye, feeling the empty soul of concern, to embrace with tears, punch in the stomach when our loved ones do not answer the phone and think that something happened.

LUCY THE OBEY FAIRY

This is the history of Nicoleta, the fairy that was not known as an obedient girl, but she had just one work.  To keep the treasure hide from the people who wanna stole it. The most ridiculous thing about it was that nobody knows what the treasure was about and who put it there. It was hidden in the National Library of that old and incredible world. Even the little fairy knew what this was about and how she was selected to be the responsible of this. But she does not want to fail and she decided to obey all the rules to make her parents feel proud of her. Finally, she had made a lot of adventures that had made her parents mad and this was a good way an opportunity to prove that she can have a responsibility and she decide to be strong and do the job. She was the treasure keeper. It happened 1000 years ago I thing, but maybe was more or less because the magic place where the National Library was, was not earth time.

LUCA

This is Luca, a dreamer. A dreamer passionate about life, about find answers. Luca lives in San Sebastian de Los Reyes, a little town in Venezuela which has a particular kind of magic. San Sebastian has amazing caves that makes people feel in another time. It is an old little town where the history walks for every single street. Luca was there, always there, enjoying the histories, the people, the moments, Luca loves.  He loves the possibilities about write his own history. The possibilities of breaths and feel the fresh air in the morning. Luca was passionate about the mysteries that in a first time cachet him. Because Luca was not from there, he arrives like if the destiny wrote for him to land in this magic place. Luca feel that town as yours and learned how to enjoy every hour wandering around the town looking for answers he was looking since years ago because Luca forgot when and how he arrives there. Even thought he just continue every day looking forward to find  those answers that kept him tied to San Sebastian as he roamed the streets also learning from the people who lived there. He found it difficult to understand how people change as coming and going, how he had become the observer of the people who received it and seems to have forgotten.

For Luca died. The little man who looked mysteries became one. He became the past and present of San Sebastian. Luca came in some time and never left and now roams the streets just trying to remember, trying to get the path.

The way he lost at some point and why it got stuck in the charm of San Sebastian. Do not know if he fell asleep and never woke up but do not know if the years went by and never got answers simply do not know if times got caught. But he is still there, perhaps in the minds of some, in premonitions of others or on the darkest nights where he walks alone to see the moon fall.