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A hundred years of La Matanza

December 21, exactly one hundred years ago, a killing blackened national history, the working people was crushed and annihilated by the militia General Silva Renard under the leadership of President Pedro Montt. But it is my intention to analyze or comment on this subject, of which I speak long enough so I think they already know my position, nor is my will tell objectively what happened, because every person who loves or is interested in the humanity must find in history books and form their own opinion. But I want to share with you some snippets of songs and poems related to this event that marked the history of Chile and American working people, forever.

Excerpts from Cantata de Santa María by Quilapayún

Fragment I

pampino worker and I'm

As Reviejo as any

And my voice begins to sing

With fears of something fatal ...

The desert has been unfaithful to me

cascade Land Only Built

bitter salt of my sorrow sad

dry rock.

but I do not feel dumb

and agonies of dry

ingratitude

only ruins and memories that make

mourn

Fragment II

We

woman, let us go to City

All will be different, do not hesitate ...

woman takes my blanket, I will shelter Ponte

the little boy in her arms, weep not

not cry, trust, will smile

I sing a song, go to sleep ...

Fragment III

You, General

not understand us continue waiting so hard for us

We are not animals, and not get up the herds

hand, fist

Fragment IV

Unite as brothers that no one will win
if want to enslave us may never achieve

The land also shall all be our sea

Justice for all and will be released also

Fight for rights that everyone should have

Fight for what is ours, nobody else has to be ... We

pure reason, why we fight

Our hands are hard, we have to do to win.

Fragments of poetry

Fragment I (Daniel Meneses)

If the poor with healthy breast

in the nation rose

against the employer in
He does it just right

seen whether

exploits usually appear haughty

is missing

money was found, as witness

And

The beggar seems Calichera

rotito

Fragment II (JBPeralta)

If there

a righteous God and a hell monster

punish the outlaw

The huge butcher

In the interests of working people

Come divine sword

And end the

populated Military soul hyena

unfair because it was the scene

accomplished in Iquique

Fragment III (JB Peralta)

Silva ordered the battle

With that

A defenseless people who defeated the beginning

With power of his shrapnel

In the fight is not faint

The general and his faithful

And giving evidence to be cruel to kill

producers;

why the killers

laurel crowns

Period And Closed Cervix

for you ... you know who you are ... Honorable Mention

Yes, this is for you ... I do not know if you like, but just wanted to describe my way, maybe half cold, but believe me, I appreciate the support you have given me and the patience that I've had and really ... I appreciate you ... in short, is with affection, but with a bit of anger also can not hang out with you, because well ... are more difficult blue cat ...

more difficult blue cat

overwhelmed

your meeting agenda alien unconscious

tread fallen leaves

hating whatever math or physics

thinking of tests to check every day

cry with the simplest facts of life

and still echoes in my ears the sound of your laughter,

can forget when your hands all you fell

and smiled at me saying, "my stupidity, my dear Camilla"

talking rapidly to entanglement and drowning

try to explain so that everyone understands that hides

great affection and tenderness behind your eyes

but smaller than your God gives you

eat too much knowing that you will feel guilty

that you will bury yourself in the gym for weeks

you'll start the diet on a Monday morning or undesirable

to make sacrifices

most notable for having the best hips

capricious

and spoiled for life, your family

God and you love pink and

yellow butterflies and is to find someone like you

is more difficult than blue cat

rarer than kneeling

tyrant more complex than

frozen sun yet

much easier to calm your colon or stressed

straighten your beautiful hair curled

find someone like you is impossible

dear friend if you walk

only the vortex of this life

Dubstep Tune That Sounds Like Riverside

... JOAQUIN SABINA

Although neither I believe it, won honorable mention in literature contest in what kind of poetry ...(( ???)) wave Actually I did not expect na pa ... by the fact that very recently I write poetry and why some people who know about this have told me that my strength is storytelling, but I think it was a gift of fate and God for the love I have for the lyrics .. . Well better let me bla bla bla and this unexpected show known poem ...

Air

never ever other
you And I just just just like Ivy
withered Arrabales
Gardens, just as

glass And you never other than you. Robert Desnos





utter these words as if from the earth
Do not choose, only caught with his eyes closed
They come to my mouth as if she were born
then leave them to go, what birds released
And I hear your distant and invisible look I see your voice
sublime yellow
scream your fingers, sensitive man where are you?
He answers my silence: where are you woman?, Tell me.
I know we're looking through the stars
I know I've written a few hundred poems
I have gone to sea a few thousand bottles
With letters of nostalgia would suffer if you read
and mourn I feel like as if everything lost river convulsively
But knowing you watch me
Where are you my woman, my lover? Why
do everything I want from you take him smile?
And to hear your silence
the wind cry with all my strength:
Ubi sunt, ubi sunt, Deleira!
Where are they, what they did,
Where are the sensations that only yesterday you felt? Where do you keep
caresses gave us a distance? Where hid
looks that we flew with magic? And I hear a melody
impromptu evening
my fingers are moving in the piano of your skin
few keys that inspire me and other drinks for pleasure
took me wise to play the notes of love. Looking for an answer
watch your silhouette
tell me you're not free, do not tell me you're not my
not tell me you're the air that cause me no injury
But silence and it gives you fade
Before I could touch you, you were part
air and lying next to your I remember only one thing I can say:
Carpe diem, my friend. Carpe diem in this cold night.
write these words soaked in water and fire
watch the stars as created by hand loom workers
I wonder if the two were truly a meeting
Or does not exist only in my dreams ...
Aahh dizzying, if you knew the poetry, Deleira,
When you hugs and penetrates with its double-edged swords decorated
violets and raindrops
There is no feeling like when you extend your hands and find a verse
born in the womb of language, Bloody
free as a human being birthed in the midst of nature and mystical
Laudable as the essence of the spirit and the word woman
Deleira Join!
and gives birth to a poem that is our son
Result of your body and mine
From my mouth kissing the navel ...
And I only ask you:
Carpe diem, my friend. Carpe diem
cold tonight Just let me hear
Just give me the sublime pleasure of looking at you.

Free Electro Tortture

uhhh! This English singer is a complete minstrel ... as a musician and a poet just unparalleled ... has a very long career full of success with approximately eighteen discs full of wonderful musical pieces and at least about seven books of poetry published, together with the thousands of songs he has written for himself and for other artists .... Taking inspiration from everyday things, loves, hopes, the sorrows, the world of art, etc ...

a magician of music and a voice that thrilled to the depths of my soul ... but hey, let's beautiful, .. this is a song I like a lot, but not the best of Joaquin happens the letter represents me well enough and let me love for his lyrics and melody ... here goes ...

CALLED SOLITUDE

flight

sometimes and sometimes I crawl too

storey,

some mornings and I'm sleepless

like a cat in

zeal

patrolling the city looking for a kitten,

at that time in that damn bars are about to close,

when the soul needs a body to caress. Sometimes

live and sometimes

life leaves me with what I write;

some sometimes I look for an adjective and possessive

inspired you scratch the heart

then throw my message,

luggage takes him a bottle ...

sea of \u200b\u200byour misunderstanding. I mean you

blackmail

just want to give you a song. And sometimes

soil

my head lay on the shoulder of the moon

and spoke of the unfortunate lover

called loneliness

And sometimes lean ground

my head on the shoulder of the moon

and spoke of the unfortunate lover

called loneliness loneliness

called

Sometimes I win and sometimes

put a circus and I grow dwarf;

sometimes I

with a worm in the fruit of the forbidden apple of the father

Adam

or sleep and left the door

of my room open in case

you think of returning;

strangest thing was that summer
that did not stop snowing. And sometimes

soil

my head lay on the shoulder of the moon

and spoke of the unfortunate lover

called loneliness

And sometimes lean ground

my head on the shoulder of the moon

and spoke of the unfortunate lover

called loneliness loneliness

called

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decisions ...

do not know how to start writing this ... but remember once told me that the best way to start is with the first thing that comes to mind ... even a nonsense ... and when I think of this song is a fragment of my disheveled head ...

... "and if I'm tired of it I just want to yell wake up" ...

Before yesterday, it was a year of the departure of Nicolas ... (The term "game" I never liked, but in this case I think the most appropriate ...) and well, then revived largely alien to attend a Mass in his memory and was even stranger to be in a church watching the behavior of all, watching the pain sometimes eats slowly.

And I've observed how his family trying to rebuild what is left and my love for her mother's increasing every day, especially when hugs me as if to say "thanks for being here, my child."

Obviously this has always made me think, think and reflect on many things ... ponder how fragile life is, how easy it is to cross that line that separates us from death, strength and security that one acquires to take certain decisions, how bad it could be the despair, the loneliness he feels in the midst of so many people, the self-assessment, in faith, etc ... and inevitably I think of what would become of me now, what would happen to my family if everything had gone as I wanted.

remember once crying Eliana Aunt Mary asked me why "questions, what went through his head at the time of Nicholas ???... and how to tell?, how to say I understand it, how to say that I understand so well ...

I do not know ... But fate gives ... times are marked and life sometimes gives second chances ... I guess I have to seize it and find that I do in this world, discover why life did not let me go ... considering that as hopscotch Cortazar said "it is necessary to change life without leaving your life."

... "because do not forget

living in the sky bluer

word that invites

to turn your smile on ice

and recalls that in the cloud where you lie sincere

fleet tear you saved

in the trunk of memories "...

New Shoes Rubbing On Ankles

empty ...

is not my intention to be a heretic, much less to offend the majority of my acquaintances who are Christians, but I allowed myself to release my questions, as most (if not all) have had. There are many existing environment to God, starting with the basic is whether there really is ... and these questions will be accommodated in this space ... because I believe deeply that the opposite of faith is not the question, but fear. Christ always presented a diffuse to others (usually his disciples) and these can not recognize not say "do not hesitate," says "fear not", showing that when he is among us fear is prohibited, not the doubt, understands that while it tolerates no end to destroy our faith and it totally separate.
But, all this is subjective and do not intend to convince anyone of my deeply held beliefs, just give me the pleasure of asking, in order to search and figure out answers, which can often seem cold, ... but believe me ... only mask the need and the love I feel (my way) by God ...
The following is a brief dialogue, but that epitomizes one of those questions that concerned about healthy and I can not help myself from time to time ... and I have no fear or shame in sharing it because I feel that neither this nor any other questions that I've been able part with him ... therefore ... I have no regrets ...

Humanity God

• why?
• why why?
• why is that?
• because it just is ...
• but why?
• because it is the destination ...
• is there fate?
• entertainment as there is God ...
• what does God see the entertainment?
• for leisure he created us ...
• what then are your entertainment?
• and destiny of boredom ...
• what do you mean?
• only what I think ...
• what do you think?
• in His infinite power and eternal glory, God got bored and created us as a hobby and when it is idle to send us a test to see how we react ...
• think this is cold ...
• is cold, but necessary and just, I am human and I doubt ... What would you do if you had the eternal and the supreme power?, If all creation praise and worship you, do not you get tired and look to find a hobby?
• maybe ...
• most likely yes, so do not judge God ... I too have done the same ...
  

Sharp Pains In Rectum When Menstruating

cigarette or hope ...

This text is another chapter or excerpt from the book I'm starting to write ...
This inspired cigarette is one of the pleasures that I enjoy ... But I've tried to relate to hope, melancholy and some other emotions of life, and that while smoking alone many questions and ideas you can come and reflect well or live a brief insight slowly by eating a cigarette ...
But well, ... not continue the bush and then give an immediate step in this text ...


I wanted to put out that cigarette, but smoke unconsciously ... thinking ... thinking ... watching ... not a drop fell from a height and tore heavily indulging in a pool ... why?, Why falls and kills without possibility of salvation? ... continued smoking puff after puff ... smoke ... smoke after question after question ... my body began to warm and a cold sweat and incipient beginning to hurt him, I wanted to get away from that cigarette, however it was part of my insistence ...
shapes are sketched its smoke, circles and curved lines looked over my hair and my fingers ... that urge to escape that cigarette, but something caught me and I could not help admiring to destroy it gently with moist lips, warm and eager to my mouth ... right had dark pleasure in the death, the feeling of being unwillingly killing ... but what my mind seeks to find in these puffs?, what do I need to find in that cigarette smoke confused and inert?, shattering observed drops in puddles, repeatedly pressed the rain against my window and I vaguely regretted that it was not high enough to open it and throw from there all what is not wanted.
Sweat was getting heavier and a mild tremor in my fingers shook the snuff suffocated and again went back and forth from my mouth into the pillow, back and forth, back and forth slowly, sadly came and went, came and coming ... watched, watched and thought ... and thought ... where I'm throwing my life?, what a deep sea, unreachable or to land under my feet and humiliating? ... Why, why, why not just suddenly all this and kill it unusable, kill my cigarette? ... Reflects what the snuff?, What do I have between my fingers and suck on my lips ... it's not a cigarette ... no no no it is not, ... is hope, it's that damn hope that leads me to endure this misery ... I thought torturing her enough to not survive, but here it is again and again leads me to open my eyes heavily a gray dawn breaks where furious rain against my window ... why my eyes overflowing with tears with this memory? ... Why my belly is empty feelings when I regret to hope -? ... Why do I have the bug on my back ?...¿ why I have cursed me hope? ... Could it be that I can get out of here, is that there is still strength to survive? ... What makes me confidence has sunk in the mud?, will be sorry or integrity? ... no no no no no I mourn, again not without reason, not nostalgia or melancholy ... not me ... do not cry for me ...
Little by little everything and running off the cigarette ... my fingers and my lips are cool burn every breath ... just my snuff and my hope goes out ... what do think about, why suffer, why mourn? ... nothing ... nothing ... nothing ... enough of all this mud accessory ... no I can put out this cigarette, but my mouth slowly consumed to extinction at some point be completely consumed And that was my hope ... turned into gray ash that dissipates in the wind of reason ...
Mmmm ... I love smoking, I love the puff of smoke across my mouth, throat, lungs, chest ... but this cigarette was off ... or My hope was to survive ... kill ... or ... should continue to rain or drops consumed ... continue shattering against the pool ... would smoke it ... or continue with my fear of living ... there would still this fear of living ... this fear that makes me insecure and awkward, humbles me and corners ... this fear, this fear that freezes my sweat ... this fear ... that makes me wonder and mourn without reason, that fills my eyes without a miserable reason ... but no ... no ... not consumed my cigarette I turned off my snuff ... and ironically continues to enjoy as I watch what they did not want to happen ... as I feel as fear takes hold of me and here it comes again to flood ... here it comes again to shake my fingers, but I keep killing me and I smoke and self-pitying, and there I go again to destroy the cigar slowly and again ... from my lips to the pillow ... my mouth when I vacuum ... and again ... smoking ... smoking and smoking ...

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fragment ...

This poem is a piece or chapter of a book I'm starting to write ... well, came at a time of solitude in which I imagined would be like being in love, happy or something ... In the context of a man dedicated to a woman, so it is written for "her" ...

With nothing more to say give way to this piece I decided to head ...." look "...

LOOK

trying to get away from your eyes but fail

fled
Your eyes do not imprisoned and I became me
in lowly slave lashes smooth
Those beautiful eyes
How to avoid, how to ignore?
had before me two rubies love
How to separate if they were intertwined? ... I do not want

Just look without having to find me waiting
And so with your eyes crystallized
Know what you've done with my feelings confused ...
What color is your eyes? What color
strongly attracts me? ...
I see the emerald in your eyes I see peace

quiet charm What you have in your eyes?,
What tenderness hide ashamed? ...
Seeking a reason to tie your lips
That I speak silent without being able to listen
Seeking a reason to support my run
And I find the lipstick of your kisses without end
The depth of your mouth is my heart beats drowned
His delivery is aware
And you've returned the tears in my eyes I've
created with your lips of death ...
Your frozen face is an expression of beauty
sadness Your eyes closed
sure what I can do if you can not find
inspired metaphysics that keeps your face?
Should I hide?
Should I fight? Should I hide
just watch?
Say I do with this bitterness
How humble transformed into writing? ... You
in one evening lying eyelids
in your mouth blurred rainbow on your lips
Hidden charm
hypnotized crying stars Dawn
hidden ... How to reach you if you're flying?
Tied to the moon with the sky playing touch
What if I find you naked and faithful
Dancing with the waves ...
walk barefoot in the sand and warm
You pick up pieces of my shattered love
and rebuild my soul when my tears dry ... Your hair
vacuum reaches out
Pearl Drops fragrant tenderness
saddened flutters gently in the breeze
painful ... What you looking at me like that?
What are you looking lapidary eye?
What are hardened in my flesh?
What I found in my hands shaking? You go slowly

You stop me before my eyelashes together
That amazed
What do caressing the mouth? What are you looking
your fingers on my skin moisturized? ...
I deliver on scattered pieces of my love
take my hand and bring it to your chest
feel the heart beats free
smiling And I find eager lips
fire ... What did you find it in my kiss of affection?
What did you find my naked eye? Why
show me love scented understanding? Why
free make me tied to your waist? ... I can find soft
each
wake from my sleep I can see you naked in every sunset orange
And I only say thanks
space
with caresses and kisses on the back and neck
Then I look into your eyes and am sensitive
Miro your lips and open meeting
I see your hands and discover gentle
I see your hair gets on my chest
I embrace as if he had this beautiful dream And I
reflection in your eyes
small velvet ... What color is your look? What color
strongly attracts me? What color
took me toward your lips? What color
me to lose myself in you? ...

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"Cueca a drunk" ...

This exquisite others describe what may be a glass of wine ... especially when enjoyed around a good conversation and company ...

But as we all know the flesh is weak ... and is easy to fall into the temptation to drink a few glasses others ... to pass a better time or to drown sorrows in a good red ... but ... are details ... The truth is that wine to accompany the human being from the old and without it life would otherwise "dye" ... Without going any further ... here in Chile we are recognized as major exporters and consumers wine ... How not to be around at a barbecue with friends, pa'l 18 in a rama'h, meals that meet the big family, etc ... or simply heat pa'h throat ... and most curious that although the country is known for producing the best wine in the world, its people consume mostly popular wine, the town or cheaper .... how to forget liter boxes Carrera siblings, Lomas de Cauquenes, flavorings, Uncle Luke and many others ... or just ... good bottle purchased at a liquor store with the smell of bad wine and old drunks ...

Well ... life would not be such without this experience ... This is why I share this with cueca honor you in this liquid co ...

The following verses are part of a "virtual conference" on that for months cuequeros met in an Internet site several cuecas enthusiasts. To show a long cueca of unknown origin ...

I must say that these verses came into my hands through the cultural and regional magazine, "Mocha" ... where they were published ...

....... I hope you enjoy and HEALTH! so ......

come

outgoing channels for drunk and fell asleep

tramp there in the plaza

and kiss a dog filthy first

I did

then 'e

spree was wash my face with a jug

my soul with a jug full of red

and I brushed my teeth I am pretty

say

I'm drunk and half lacho

lacho

and a half to and if he believes

Nah, you say I look like the yoni dep

the yoni dep

my soul I can not explain

told me a fag

mijito rich!

mijito rich shit ran

an old street was laughing

was laughing I was pa lese

church to pray for the world

Take this Take this cauro

while praying

noticed a girl watching me

my soul I look forward

thank dear God gave him with great faith

Teresa

with great faith and begged

hopefully the brunette

near me

Oh if it came near me and meanwhile

light appears

the Holy Father!

oh God the Holy Father

telling me "come here no more

your misdeeds"

Your misdeeds devil

apologize just feel a hand in

pants pants

mijita

what has been believed?

not see what this day I convertí'o

?

convertí'o my soul I

in Sexton

never see me take tintal

! Guacha tintito

take no more sins

porfa remove your hand I've changed

I've changed a lot

Diosito

thanks for saving me from hell I am a blessed

am blessed my soul and the dark

kept insisting me dumb

Güena

Güena dumb

Father give me a second!

strong are the temptations in this world

in this world was reluctant infamous

wing took me to the sacristy

the sacristy my soul is good place

told me the brown lunch

kids lunch chicken with potatoes

since that day I have black legs

my soul black legs like a spider

outraged I retire tomorrow.

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Charles Baudelaire ...

I present below some of my favorite esritores: "Charles Baudelaire" ... (1821-1867)
"Classified" by some in the mainstream "symbolism" of contemporary French literature, some of his works are "flowers of evil", "little poems in prose" and "artificial paradise." However
integrate with Baudelaire Verlaine, Rimbaud and Mallarmé the great movement of "accursed poets", which stand to give her poetry a dense nature, secretive and mysterious ...
Without further ado I give way to one of his great poems ...

A Carrion

my soul, and reminds recógete

object that we saw this morning

returning from a road, an infamous skeleton

on the lush land.

raising the legs as a lustful woman, Burning and sweating

poison

open shamelessness, in a cynical way,

fumes filled his belly.

sun that illuminated the

podridura

to cook about

and return in hundredfold, Mother Nature

everything she encouraged together.

looked at the sky giant carrion

opened like a flower:

you almost fainted on the fresh grass

with sharp odor.

flies swarmed at that belly fat and

Gusarapo larvae and black army, were, as a thick liquid by the living

rags.

everything had a river moving

or sparkled and vanished;

say that the body, thanks to a vague breath, multiplying

grew.

the chaos sounded strange rumor,

like water down the trail,

or grain, continuous rhythm becomes the stalker

and stir in the sieve.

a slick way otherwise aborted:

as slow to materialize outline

forgotten

on canvas and the artist just

without reaching end

and behind the rocks there was a

restless dog we looked annoyed,

waiting to join the skeleton

and catch a bite started ...

- you'll think like this garbage

and this horrible

infection

star of my eyes, sun of my dark night,

you, my angel and my passion!

yeah! you have to see you so, oh, queen of graces!

after the last kisses;

when you go under moss and algal limp,

to mature between the bones.

but then, my dear, tell the larva damaging bite

when your poor remains,

I kept the form and divine essence of your love

broken!

This poem is clearly a different vision of beauty and death. Charles, even though they are watching a badly decomposed body, not its focus as it may sound disgusting, but that this "junk" may originate the wonder of life. That is, this putrid body, feed worms and larvae that can live with this carrion. (What scientists call over the endless cycle of the food chain).

personally

What I like about this well-made poem, is the link it establishes between his beloved Baudelaire and the body. She, the light and the angel of the poet, too (despite its beauty) will become in "garbage." And like all of us (unless you decide cremarte), you will nourish and give life to your putrefaction of hundreds of parasites that slowly and leisurely eat your flesh, your eyes and bones.

sincerely believe that this is a clear demonstration that everything in nature is provided and that even in death, decay and on the same shit, is a wonderful ... is the essence that is life ...

Sore Nipples And High Cervix With Discharge

The soul ... FITO PAEZ

Etymologically, the concept of the soul comes from the Latin "anima", "breath", "life" and has the same meaning for the Greek word "psyche."
some of the defined as a spiritual principle that informs the human body and it is the essence of man ... or a particular ethereal substance found in living organisms, where the inner essence of each of these living beings. .. But beyond its definition is true that the soul is a metaphysical component within us, something that makes us not only flesh but also spiritual beings ... (regarding our spiritual elevation, not according to the theologians).
It should be a bit of history around the soul and I want to tell the former belief that women possessed and that this was only a quality male ... Curiously who held this thought were Catholics and only in 431 AD came to an agreement that women if we have soul ... (thanks for giving me this "right ")... But some Jewish groups continued to ensure that women do not have it with us ....( well ... is the pluralism of thought).
Well, ... around it are many questions, like where does it go when we die?, can travel and where we go back?, can, if we allow it and we know how, to change relevant aspects of our life?, etc ...
Well ... obviously what we think of our soul will go directly related to what we have been taught, our Christian view, the level of spirituality that we have achieved and if we, know and manage the concepts of metaphysics ...
personally believe that the soul does not belong to us and comes and goes back to a greater whole, I also think that traveling and where we wish to be, a part of our energy will be universal, I also believe that if we can use metaphysical principles management and knowledge fully to the point that they transmute, dissolve and manages many aspects of our existence ... but thats just my opinion and there are actually different points of view, all respectable ...
But well ... everyone should see and explore within it to discover it says its essence and be able to manage their spirit to uncover a little more human nature.

Licence Plate Conceiler

Here's ... a great songwriter who personally manages to captivate and make you look all from a human point of view and poetic ... the next song takes me to a state of solitude absorbed, but despite this gap again I find myself every time I hear ... Well, what else I can say ... achievement mourn with this song and smile ...

CREO

believe that even I think maybe I can catch it

think that at last nothing so desperate

I think that dying is a feeling I

to live but now it could be something much more real

I exited

to see some sun

I saw you dancing in some old house beatles site

I may still think of me

think I can grasp it and never want to see you so sad, so sad

I think you're crying

I remember I opened the door and you were lost

after watching me naked and you laughed My face felt so evil

top

love and if I fell I do not care because all all all all all all

this is the two

not want anything that makes us bad I

I think I

and that's enough

maybe I still think of me think I can grasp

think ...

baby somehow go out that door

baby

're going out I think.

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tears ...

" size does not matter if a tear, .. no matter if it rhymes with life ...

how many times have secretly cried at night? Fragility what matters when we are alone with the moon and the stars?

uuff ... the pillow is transmuted into our silent partner who understands, no one to hide our feelings, we just happened to our relief, our purification, those rubies that roll slow, wet and salad down our cheeks ... this scene, becomes, in a cult of human sensitivity, ... no woman or man who has not shed a tear ... and symbolizing joy from yellow, gray and more pain renews our lives to let out through the eyes, the emotions that live in the heart.

Life is just bitter because you've cried, is more human when tears express what words can not describe.

However, we must remember ... tears that nothing will change, nor dissolve the fate and time ... for that we must know why or who mourn ... we must not thrash this beautiful encounter between the feelings and we ...

... "Do not cry over losing the sun, your tears will not let you see the stars, only one can outshine the sun, you get closer and get attention and occasionally give her a flower" .. .

... "and if you come crying to seek" ... (A tango)

... "and if the tears will come looking

grab it from the front, baby whole

the tears copetín

legitimate ... (Julio Cortazar)

Well, let's put aside the warm melancholy and ironic about ourselves, here comes Julio Cortázar to talk about our relationship with the crying and the mechanic to have become ...

Instructions to mourn

sides
Leaving the grounds, let us stick to the proper way to mourn, meant as a cry that is not allowed into the scandal, or that insults the smile with its parallel and awkward resemblance. Crying average, everyday is a general contraction of the face and a spasmodic sound accompanied by tears and mucus, the latter in the end, since the cry ends at the moment when one blows strongly.
To mourn, steer the imagination toward yourself, and if this proves impossible to have contracted the habit of believing in the external world, think of a duck covered with ants or of those gulfs in the Strait of Magellan in which does not fit anyone, ever.
Coming to the weeping itself, cover the face decorously, using both hands, palms inward. Children cry with the sleeve pressed against the face, and preferenia in a corner of the room. Average duration of crying, three minutes.

Well ... do not forget ... "If the tears back, they will make us stronger" ...