8

Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all.

~Toni Morrison

A single metaphor can give birth to love.

~Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

fin de semana de festejo

ready to go anywhere

That’s how I feel: ready to go anywhere, ready to quit to unnecessary tedium, and welcoming changes & beginnings. And the most important thing, I’m determined to go into exile and devote myself to fairy tales and writing. The decision is made. Thanks Argel for your advice. I do believe this is the perfect time to do it.

And but for the sky there are no fences facin’.
~Bob Dylan, Mr. Tambourine Man

I’m also very grateful to Margarita for her wholehearted support and for walking along with me in this parade, and to Alexis for listening and for daily sharing a trip upon a magic swirling ship, which led us to the contemplation of a diamond sky being silhouetted by the sea and to a journey I trust to be endless. Thanks to the three of you.

Doubtlessly, things happen for a reason. Let’s see where I’m heading for…

what other places are there in the world
than those discovered on a lover’s body?

~Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

weekend

This was a weekend for rewriting,
                                                          remaking,
                                                                              retracing

and recycling all after the tragedy of loss.

Time to
           rethink priorities,
                                     welcome the new,
                                                                  recover hope and
                                                                                              enjoy the ride.

you rest on me and my shoulder holds

your heavy unbeliavable
skull, crowded with radiant
suns, a new planet, the people
submerged in you, a lost civilization
I can never excavate:

my hands trace the contours of a total
universe, its different
colours, flowers, its undiscovered
animals, violent or serene

its other air
its claws

its paradise rivers

~Margaret Atwood

What you risk reveals what you value.

~Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

Love Lies Bleeding

Love that is dead and buried, yesterday
      Out of his grave rose up before my face;
      No recognition in his look, no trace
Of memory in his eyes dust-dimmed and grey.
While I, remembering, found no word to say,
      But felt my quickened heart leap in its place;
      Caught afterglow, thrown back from long-set days,
Caught echoes of all music passed away.
Was this indeed to meet? –I mind me yet
      In youth we met when hope and love were quick,
            We parted with hope dead, but love alive:
      I mind me how we parted then heart-sick,
            Remembering, loving, hopeless, weak to strive: –
Was this to meet? Not so, we have not met.

~Christina Rossetti

love love love

You’ll be given love… maybe not from the directions you are staring at.