abue y yo

te llevaré conmigo

volarás en mi aivoneta

sobre el mar y tu tierra

que coronaste con tu carisma

que anhelas con tus labios rosa

bella, te atrevías, ven aquí ahora

te llevaré conmigo

a aquel barrio, a aquella casa

que vió crecer en flor de luto

a la odiosa princesa de cuento

ahora crecida tu, presencia de bella dama

ordenada detallista, esa mínima falla.

te llevaré conmigo

recorrerás la playa a caballo

callarás lo que piensas,

sin dudar de seguir mi ruidoso paso

que acabó con esa certeza?

vida dulce, lo demás pasó volando

te llevaré conmigo

para que recuerdes esos tiempos

donde con toda sutileza

alteráste mil ideas

hasta yo sordo escuchaba

lo que pronunció tu delicada boca

te llevaré conmigo

a sentarte bajo el árbol

tu vestido de seda caerá

sutilmente bajo tu cintura

me hablarás de lo que ya no crees

donde te fuiste amarga ideología?

te llevaré conmigo

parada en medio de las calles desiertas

la noche duerme con sosegada obediencia

y el resplandor de las luces

iluminarán tu pálido rostro

qué paciencia, qué paciencia

te llevaré conmigo

despues de la noche de gala

donde arrimada a los cálidos hombros

me enredaré en tus cabellos de vainilla

y encontraré en tu rostro

la belleza más perfecta

y te llevaré conmigo

en tu carrosa de perlas

donde sentada en los asientos de crystal

porfin cerrarás tus brillantes ojos

de tu ser desprende una sutíl fragancia

y te encontrarás en un sueño del cual no despiertas,

con la postura correcta, el pelo suelto,

con esa valiente sonrisa en la cara.

              When I had finaly managed to build something that looked reasonably like the picture of the bos of my legos, I took a polaroid of if. Well my camera was a Polaroid and took instant pictures, but I am sure there are many other cameras which are not Polaroid yet take polaroid pictures. This is a bit like the Schotch for me. I think it is funny. After taking the photo I used to clean it with a kleenex, which is not actually a Kleenex, but a tissue. This name came form the owner Kimberly Clark. I know this because we studied it in our history lessons last year. I enjoyed them, they were fun. 

              However, as I was saying, after I finnished playing with my legos I used to go shopping with my mother to the supermarket. This was usualy done on Sundays. To get to the supermarket I used to put my walkman on so I would not get bored. It was not the tipical Sony tape player. My brother used to laugh at it because it was not the lastest Sony version out. When we arrived at the mall, we took the elevator up to the second floor where the food was.  I don’t really like elevators. This one has a big plaque on its side which says property of Otis Corporation, this being the real inventor of the escalator. It is not very fast, the other corporations have made really slow moving escalators too, they make me feel sick.

              Once inside the supermarket my mother used to buy jello and coke while I went to the toy section. She bought not just the Coke from Coca Cola, but every single can of soda I could find. I love coke. The bad thing of cans is that when I opened the first one I cut my finger. Mum put a band-aid over it. I did not really know what a band-aid was because I had not seen one before, usualy if I cut myself I placed my finger under water and that was all. I was very curiouse so I took the box full of bandges and read it from the supermarket to the house. I found it interesting that band-aid was now the comun name for bandage sicne Jhonson and Jhonson owned it.    

              I walked slowly out of the corridor 4B in the supermarket. My mother was no longer with me but I still come here on Sundays. I suppose it was just a natural instinct to enter this row of toys. I was very distracted thinking about who made Jeep the new word for truck. My feet just wondered of.

My sister also used to sing along with the tunes she created. She became a famous compositor some years ago. I followed her steps. I started playing at the age of 6 and have also learned how to play the guitar and the drums, and the trumpet and the flute, and of course the triangle, which I must say I always saw as my greatest achievement. I am not sure why I got so involved in the music in the first place. There was always something about the rhythms, and the tunes, and the notes and the sounds that captivated me. They enrolled me in my own little world where I could not hear anything that was not a musical note. Then I started growing up. I started listening to things around me. It was not only notes in my mind but now I had arpeggios playing around with my brain, spinning it round and round making my head ache. This was when I was 12.

The next year my sister left the house. I missed her very much. It was not her presense which lacked, but her sound, her music. Now there was only mine to play and never agian had I the chance to listen to our mix of music. This was the turning point for me, I needed it, it was part of me, it was like a drug, essential to my existence. I was nothing without it. Tunes played in my mind everyminute of the day. When I was not playing instruments I was singing, if I was not singing i was thinking about it. I could hear the songs ringing in my ears without having the real tune. It invaded my mind, it seemed completely real. It was an allusination but it was there present in my toughts all the time. I could feel it running through my body like when an electric current shocks you. It hurt, it had me obsessed. I was completely dependant of music ,it was not part of my life it was my life it was my thoughts, my feeling, my ideas, my voice, it was me. It followed me everywhere, every corner I bent, anywhere I looked at, it was there. Everything in the world beats at its own rythm. Each heart beat, each ticking of the clock, each tap on this keyboard breates a sound of its own, a simple movement invaded by music one can not resist. However,  I loved it.

I never let go of that felling, of music running through my body, filling up every single space with notes and tunes.  I have accepted is as myself, something I was destined to be, and I do not mind. Sometimes though, I do wish I could not hear the music in everything I do, it distracts me from hearing other people or concentrating properly in exams. Even when I eat, very crunch I hear in my mouth makes me think about music. I have passed my thoughts onto my sister; this is how she composes now. I have inspired her just like she inspired me to start all of this. Music is important to me, I know it well.

                                                           breath, feel, think.

     It’s in front of you, you can’t escape it you can’t run, walk, duck, hide. No crying, no pleading. Reassignment. You know its lost. Shivers run down your spine, tickling your neck softly. And the rush of panic starts invading you as you see his hand twitch. His cynical laughter invading your ears, echoing in you empty brain full of creepy crawlers consuming your thoughts as products in a sale at a supermarket, making you sway in confusion.

                           stop. don’t move

          Control your self. You know it is coming you have to be prepared. Face it, stop moving and grabbing and thinking and hearing. Stop your heart beating faster and faster, harder and harder like drum beats. Palpitations screaming through out your body, its hard to breath, it is too fast. Sweat running down your face. The air stiffens its not cold its just wrong, just….

                                                                                                                               no, its just a reflex

       you stopped thinking, you thought it was coming, your mind went blank. Your thoughts, your feelings collapsed, but it did not come it is not there. There’s no bullet entering your heart. No feeling of your skin tearing, no sense of pain, no sarcastic humor. Nothing speeding frantically towards you, dragging you of your feet in desperation.  It’s not there. 

                                                           breath, feel, think.

               Now its easy. There is no point if you have to wait and hate and feel and think for nothing. To be wrong, to miscalculate the time and space. Prescision is gone, there is no perfection, you were not right. Now you don’t know, you were sure it would come. And you finally stop, look, smile. He is watching you, his laughter glowing in his eyes. Pride soaking his skin and his mind ripping common sense out of intelligence. Now it’s not in front of you. It is still getting nearer.

             Grabbing your hand, your hate locked up, you walk with him out of the ally way, into the street, under the tree, into the front yard, past the red car, past the frozen flowers, past the sleeping dog, up the steps, onto the porch and into the house number 37 where you live.

 I hope you enjoy reading my stories!