Micro Narrative

There are days that don’t end, there are days when sleep doesn’t come. There are days that slowly diffuse on other days and dreams are stolen. There are weeks that are days, confusing the calendar of human reason. And when…

Words are not definitive: their meaning, spelling or composition. A capital word may suddenly lose importance and become small. If there is a hierarchy in words. Words should not be read or heard as absolute truths. Words are not tattoos.

A boat under the sea is always a disaster, no boat was born to sink. However, when it is crossed by time, there is a beauty in it that comes from catastrophe. Time changes the look of things.

There is an open window that does not close. A breeze that disturbs the sight that does not end. Beyond, in infinity, the tangible dream subjects itself to the impermanence of days and nights. Time passes, absorbed in the illusion…

From day to day I see my hand grow and the cells that multiply in this ode to the triumph of life. From day to day I see my foot growing, and the paths I have gone before have now…

At the end of the party, meditation consists of cleaning the mouths of the drunken and revealing glasses, served at the meal. For the more ingrained dirt the nails are used and, sometimes, the forgiveness…

One day someone asked me what it was for me to exist. I answered: I don’t know, it’s good, to walk in the world … Today, in my ninety years, I think that to exist is also to feel the…

Golden waves populated by reverent suns are crossed. Along the hot and infinite asphalt, fast breezes roll towards their destination. Micro universes shaped in this peninsular desert, are oases of color and life. Dry valleys drain among almost green giants….

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