Mantra of a Self Made Man

Aqui les comparto un piece of poetry de un gran amigo, escritor y erudito musical.

100% identificada.

Espero que les guste tanto como a mi.

A.


Mantra of a Self Made Man
Por: Carlos Murgueitio

From zero to one... from river, to ocean... I realised I'm like nature.
Violent, but Calm. Silent, but Noisy at the same time
Love and hate living inside ... I am the beginning, and I am the end.
I am the sinner and I am the saint
The saint wishes to be loved like a sinner.
I hate and I understand myself
It's human to hate yourself... as it is human to make mistakes.

Iron Maiden-The Man Who Would Be King.

Aqui les comparto la letra de esta canción que me gusto mucho. Es del nuevo CD de Iron Maiden.

Espero que les guste,

A.




Iron Maiden-The Man Who Would Be King


As he travels on the beast of burden
Moving up along the mountain's side
As he gazes looking down the valley
No regrets but his pride

As he journeys across mountain passes
its significance leaps over him
his reflection of the beauty around him
feeling empty inside

He is running from his wildest thoughts
He is running from his everything
He is looking down to find something
Hoping he can be saved

He's searching for the answer now
It's something that he's managed to avoid up 'til now
The conviction that he claims
He needs to find the answer sooner then later

Pushed himself to the limits
He had to strive for all the harder things in life
But what's the cost of getting now
His life and time is the only thing that he has

Life is on the rehearsal
All he has is the one chance to get it right
Living really is the only way to know
Maybe one day they'll forgive him what he's done
But now the pain of lying too early in the grave

Destiny
No good to hide away
Endless now will be his only way
Understand, no good to run away
Penance now will be his saving grace

He has to make his peace with God
All is forgivable but it's left a little late
Trying something that he's not
Is it possible to change such a lot

He's taking someone's life away
There's not a day goes by he regrets what he's done
He should've found another way
For the good book says: "An eye for an eye"

He's inflecting on decisions that were made
And the judgements that will haunt him to the grave
No one has the right to take another life
But in his mind he had no choice so be it

Destiny
No good to hide away
Endless now will be his only way
Understand, no good to run away
Penance now will be his saving grace

Far far away
The Man Who Would Be King

Exhaustion Blues by Henry Rollins.

Les comparto una obra sublime.
Explica mucho como soy y como me siento.
Ojala algun dia pudiera expresarme asi.

Gracias a Carlos Murgueitio por la transcripcion.

A.




Exhaustion Blues



Exhaustion, I thought I'll check in with you.
Right now is autumn, I'm in Germany...
Spring and summer make me think of the present
Autumn and winter paralyze me
Autumn makes me remember, forces me into mental rewind

Today we're in the van driving through a small village, and I caught the smell of a wood-burning fire, it scented me, I inhaled it again but it was gone.
Made me think when I was in the 4th grade, I delivered papers for the Washington Star. In the autumn the sun would set earlier and it would be dark by the time I finished the route. I could smell the wood-burning fires all over, every block
- Another thought comes to interrupt
A few months ago I was at the "New Music Seminar" in New York, that bullshit that runs every year so labels can tell each other how great they are. This time around we played the seminar. It was good as gigs go. It was a drag having to be around with all these people from nowhere peddling their music. I was put in the artist’s panel to answer questions from the audience.

There's some pretty interesting people in the panel. I sat next to Hank Ballard. He was a trip. I talked to Leonard Cohen, he was cool. That little shit from The Police was there. Lemmy was on the panel, drunk.
So anyway, we're all lined up behind this table and the mediator is an idiot, asking the panelists a bunch of stupid questions. He asks Leonard Cohen what was like to fuck Nico at the Chelsea Hotel.
Some brave penny sent a question for me to answer. Something like "Having grown up serving designer ice cream to fellow rich kids in a nice neighborhood, how can you reconcile with what you do now?"
What kind of question is that? It's the kind of thing you ask when you want to get smacked, and that's what should've happened. It would've been great if the guy come up front and ask the question and then I climbed down to the stage, punched him once and walk back to my seat.
That would have been high class entertainment as well as an art statement. Nietzsche called them "The Tiny Masters of Today". The little shit heels who never get what they need so bad.
So Anyway, I would throw papers until past dark and I stayed away as long as i could without freezing my ass off. I did all I could to stay away from my house. I didn't wanted to be there if I can't help it. I knew that my mother would be at home and I wanted to stay away from her as much as possible.
It was all right. I'll hang out and walk the streets passing the time. I liked being out in the streets. It's where I felt best. Home was always painful when she was there. On the streets I could be alone, to be one with my own thoughts.
Looking back, it was good that it went down that way. I learned to be self-reliant at an early age.

The autumn makes me think of women. Something about the cold air brings life to a woman's face. Perhaps it's just that I'm lonely at this point of the year, always rocking out some shit hole. But you know, it's a false loneliness because for the life of me, I can't think of a single woman that I wanted to be with. I like the ones in my imagination the best.
The ones that I think up in the van as the miles fly by. They're the women I tell myself about after shows when I'm feeling empty and alone. The women that fill the lie, the women who fill the void for a while until I can get on another thoughts.
Sometimes it's hard not to get lost on your thoughts in these tours. All these people in your face, nothing like it that they let you know that you're totally alone. The isolation is vivid, and then there's your exhaustion. You always come up in the end of the tour to remind me I'm not 20 anymore.
Sometimes I think I'm from another planet, I bet a lot of people felt like that too, I've known and I've never known and I'll never be able to fit into the screaming horrific bullshit festival. They try to hold on something and somehow all falls out of their grasp, or even worse, it seems out of reach. You can get the feeling of displacement feeling no placed.
I've grown accustomed to feeling alien everywhere I go. It's not big deal. I remember when I used to get of work, I'd go and eat at the same hamburger place every night. People would've always be staring at me, looking at my bald head. At first it used to trip me out and get me mad, but after a while I could be in a room full of people staring and I wouldn't even care.
You get a strange distance from people that you never get back all the way, no matter what happens. When you've been in the outside, a part of you will always be out there. It's a good thing too. If you let them, to waste your time and make you sick until there's nothing left of you...

Every time they push you out, you get more of yourself in return. I figured it's a good deal, seeing how many people have no clues of who they are, waiting all night by the phone hoping that someone would call, going out with people they don't care about or don't even like, because they can't stand the thought of being alone? Because the thought of being alone tells them that they're failures? That people who are alone are always lonely and miserable?
I hear so many stories about people having to lie all night because they are going out with someone they didn't like, and had to keep up some kind of appearance. That's the stuff that gives you nervous breakdowns and cancer.
It all makes me feel the same way every time. People for the most time are a waste of time. The more time you get to yourself, the better.
When I had wheels, I used to spend more time in my car than in my apartment. I had a mono tape deck there and I would drive around just to hear the music. There's this Dunkin Donuts I used to go to and hang out by myself.
Every moment spent away from my boss, from people I knew, every moment I spent making my own world, I felt better about myself. I'd hang out in this place and drink coffee and listen to the locals talk, trying to untangle the last 4 years of my life. I didn't know what to do with all the hatred that I had inside.
I tried to write, but it didn't work. A good healthy level of hate is always good to have on handle all times. Nothing wrong with it. Hate gets you through the times where love just confuses and entraps. Hate is so final and pure, love is many headed and dangerous.
I know hate is good 'cause I see how many people don't know how to deal with it. They don't see it for the energy force it could be. When it rises in them, they run headlong into a stranger who lives inside. They don't know themselves and it tears them up when they need themselves the most.
They don’t have themselves to go to, they're always too busy burning the wax, trying' to look good for someone else, trying' to be someone's something. What a sellout. That's a waste, when you sell yourself out.
There's certain music that only works for me in the autumn. Sitting in this cold club makes me want to hear Lou Reed. When I came through here with Black Flag in 1983 it was February, it was cold as hell. We played this Velvet Underground tape as we limped from show to show. Every since then, it's been Lou, the autumn and winter.
His album "Street Hassle" got me through many cold weather blues, still does.
I can't remember an autumn in the last several years that I wasn't in the van driving down some gray vacant highway. Cold weather makes me think clear and makes me more withdrawn than usual. I'm not close to people, I'm close to myself.

I spend a lot of time inside. Where else you can go when everything pushes you to every edge in the joint? You have to make your head your home. It's the only way I'd stand in places like the one I'm in tonight. If you can't pull into yourself you're finished, the road will crush you.
Nothing like Europe for exercises and isolation, that's why I like it here. Last night was good, after the show was over, I sat behind the PA and listened to the music. No one could see me, so I could hang on without having to talk to anyone. After the shows, people can really bring me down, they ask questions I cannot understand. They want to talk about what they just saw, which is the last thing I want to think about.
Sometimes, when they ask questions I can tell by what they want to know that the distance between them and me is really far. It's depressing. I see that I am really all alone out there. It was good just to be able to listen the music and not have to see or talk to anyone. I don't even want to talk to the guys in the band after playing. I just want to sit and try to pick up the pieces the best I can.
There's a great feeling when you're totally resolved, and you make the jump from being lonely to being only. When you're so totally alone and absolute, when you're the number one.
This is a great moment. Finally you know something, it's all yours. When I put myself through the human test and I come through still being able to say my name and knowing that there's nothing else for me and no one for me, I become stronger. My will power grows. I push my pain threshold up farther, I'm able to take more. I'm able to learn more.
I made myself an enemy of praise and adulation. Let me explain the reason for this.
Praise is dangerous. It can go from a little to too much in a few words. Sure, it's nice to know that someone likes what you do. You can see what it does to the "Rock Star" types that believe the reviews and the things that everyone says.
But to take it all away, you must turn deaf ear to praise, move and keep moving. The last thing I want to hear is that someone likes what I do. When someone starts in with it I try to change the subject. I know that I'm probably more extreme than most on this respect but I found that praise screws me up. I like it best having little or not interaction with people at all. That's not to say that I don't like people that come to the roadhouse to see the show. I feel a great responsibility to the strangers. They take time out of their lives to check out what I'm doing and I'm honored, but I don't wanna hear the rope.

I am systematically destroying myself piece by piece, and I don't want to be complimented on it. You have to be careful, because it can all turn on you.

I found myself in bad situations where I ask myself if I should never talk to anyone again. I just want to get on with the work, the rest doesn't matter.

Seeing someone that you haven't seen for years and they tell you "What your problems are?" , and then "You're nothing but an asshole anyway", "You're in that magazine", "Who you think you are?".

And I think to myself about the long drives and all the bullshit that anyone in the road has to put up with. I pull back from that thought and look at this guy, my age with a beer gut and an attitude giving me grief.

It's sad when someone you know become someone you knew. It makes me very hard and weary around people. If I am not careful, I'll sleep into ugly roots of cynicism and I don't want to be like that.

Exhaustion, you're a disease.

Best not to mix the past with the present. The present pains the past with gold, the past pains the present with led. When I run backwards, I feel the desperation rise. Best for me to hurt and head long into the present, never look back. Maybe catch on fire if I do it right.

That's all there is, the right now. If we don't plant ourselves in the front row of the present, I predict that if anyone of us reaches old age, would be sitting on the front porch thinking "Damn! Should I've burned all the temples, screamed, danced and dragged life through the colds?"

I align myself with life's brutal headlong lunch towards death. I'm in motion at all times, waging war with exhaustion, winning some, and losing some...

Todo y Nada a la Vez.

Héme aqui. Rodeada literalmente de cenizas. Fragmentos de un recuerdo y hecho fisico. Escuchando Drexler. Ojala pudiera decir que estoy junto a un gran amigo llamado alcohol. Mas no, no me atrae el sabor del alcohol. Alguna sustancia psicotropica? Tampoco. Nunca las he probado y tampoco esta en mis planes hacerlo. Mi mejor compañero por ahora es un poco de glucosa a las venas. Si, por muy infantil que suene. Esa misma glucosa que cada vez que la abro me da esperanza de ganar algo que no ganare. Ja. Creo tener mucha fe.

Y yo pregunto, es el mundo o soy yo?. Tenemos la tendencia de echarnos la culpa por lo que sucede. Para que?.

Y llego aqui, pensando que escribiendo solucionare mis problemas. No. Tantas cosas que me cruzan por la cabeza que es como querer hablar y decir 10000 palabras al mismo tiempo. Me cuesta tanto expresar.

Creo que he llegado a mi propia conclusion que mi forma de expresar es no expresandome, Simplemente acostarme, cerrar los ojos y disfrutar lo delicioso de mis sonidos preferidos. Ojala fuera tan facil expresarme como tu, Becquer.

Como le comentaba a alguien el otro dia, yo escribo por nadie mas que por mi. Soy mi propia autora, expectadora, fanatica. Me siento a escribir todo y nada a la vez. Nunca tengo un punto en mis escritos. Simplemente dejar fluir la tinta, en este caso mis dedos sobre las teclas. Revitalizantes, emocionante. No deseo captar su atencion, deseo captar la mia. Redescubrirme, conocerme. Divagar,

No se si las cenizas seran algun mensaje de significado sobre mi vida actual. Todas las cosas que suceden deberian simplemente convertirse en cenizas. En algun momento fue fuego. Hoy, algo muerto. Convencida, tiene significado. Ahora es tiempo de ponerlo en practica. Lo muerto como recuerdo. Aprender de lo muerto. Aprender del fuego.

Es hora de buscar otra hoguera, o bien para ser prendida y mantenida o bien para ser recordada, para ser muerta.

Necesito revitalizar mas este entorno, prender nuevas hogueras. Por mi y por mi.

Auxilio.

A.

Jorge Drexler-Guitarra y Vos

Que viva la ciencia, que viva la poesía, que viva siento mi lengua cuando tu lengua está sobre la lengua mía.
El agua está en el barro, aunque el barro en el ladrillo y el ladrillo está en la pared y en la pared tu fotografía. Es cierto que no hay arte sin emoción, y que no hay precisión sin artesanía, como tampoco hay guitarra sin tecnología, o tecnología de nylon para las primas, tecnología del metal para el clavijero, la prensa, la gubia y el barniz, las herramientas del carpintero.
El cantautor y su computadora, el pastor y su afeitadora, el despertador que ya esta anunciando la aurora y en el telescopio se demora la última estrella. La máquina la hace el hombre y es lo que el hombre hace con ella.
El arado, la rueda, el molino, la mesa en que apoyo el vaso de vino, las curvas de las montaña rusa, la semicorchea y hasta la semifusa, el te, los ordenadores y los espejos, las lentes para ver de cerca y de lejos, la cucha del perro, la mantequilla la hierba, el mate y la bombillas. Estás conmigo, estamos cantando a la sombra de nuestra parra, una canción que dice que uno sólo conserva lo que no amarra, y sin tenerte te tengo a vos y tengo a mi guitarra.
Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos, mi guitarra y vos. Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos, mi guitarra y vos
Hay cines, hay trenes, hay cacerolas, hay fórmulas hasta para describir la espiral de una caracola, hay más, hay tráfico, créditos, cláusulas, salas V.I.P, hay cápsulas hipnóticas, y tomografías computarizadas, hay condiciones para la constitución de una sociedad limitada, hay biberones, hay buses, hay tabúes, hay besos hay hambre, hay sobrepeso, hay curas de sueño y tisanas, hay drogas de diseño y perros adictos a las drogas en las aduanas, hay manos capaces de fabricar herramientas con las que se hacen máquinas para hacer ordenadores, que a su vez diseñan máquinas que hacen herramientas para que las use la mano.
Hay escritas infinitas palabras, zen gol, bang, rap, dios, fin

Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos, mi guitarra y vos. Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos, mi guitarra y vos
Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos, mi guitarra y vos. Hay tantas cosas, yo solo preciso dos: mi guitarra y vos, mi guitarra y vos

Zahir

Personalmente, no soy fan de Coelho pero al principio de su libro el "Zahir" encontre esta nota que hasta el dia de hoy me ha encantado. Cada vez que tengo la oportunidad la comparto con personas cercanas. espero que les guste tanto como a mi.

A.


Según el escritor Jorge Luis Borges, la idea del
Zahir procede de la tradición islámica, y se
estima que surgió en torno al siglo XVIII.
En árabe, Zahir significa visible, presente, incapaz de
pasar desapercibido. Algo o alguien, con el que,
una vez entramos en contacto, acaba ocupando
poco a poco nuestro pensamiento, hasta que no
somos capaces de concentrarnos en nada más.
Eso se puede considerar santidad o locura.

Enciclopedia de lo Fantástico, 1953,
Faubourg Saint-Péres.

El Zahir, Paulo Coelho

Un peut sur la vie..

Cuando emprendas tu viaje hacia Ítaca
debes rogar que el viaje sea largo,
lleno de peripecias, lleno de experiencias.

No has de temer ni a los lestrigones ni a los cíclopes,
ni la cólera del airado Poseidón.
Nunca tales mostruos hallarás en tu ruta
si tu pensamiento es elevado, si una exquisita
emoción penetra en tu alma y en tu cuerpo.
Los lestrigones y los cíclopes
y el feroz Poseidón no podrán encontrarte
si tú no los llevas ya dentro, en tu alma,
si tu alma no los conjura ante ti.

Debes rogar que el viaje sea largo,
que sean muchos los días de verano;
que te vean arribar con gozo, alegremente,
a puertos que tú antes ignorabas.
Que puedes detenerte en los mercados de Fenicia,
y comprar unas bellas mercancías.
Acude a muchas ciudades de Egipto
para aprender, y aprender de quienes saben.

Conserva siempre en tu alma la idea de Ítaca:
llegar allí, he aquí tu destino.

Mas no hagas con prisas tu camino;
mejor será que dure muchos años,
y que llegues, ya viejo, a la pequeña isla,
rico de cuanto habrás ganado en el camino.

No has de esperar que Ítaca te enriquezca:
Ítaca te ha concedido ya un hermoso viaje.
Sin ella, jamás habrías partido;
mas no tiene otra cosa que ofrecerte.

Y si la encuentras pobre, Ítaca no te ha engañado.
Y siendo ya tan viejo, con tanta experiencia,
sin duda sabrás ya qué significa Ítaca.

Konstantinos Kavafis (1863-1933)

100 cosas que le dan sentido a mi vida.

No tiene ningun orden especial. No necesariamente son las 100 cosas que mas le dan sentido a mi vida pero si las 100 cosas que recorde mas.

Proximamente las 100 cosas que mas odio.

A.


1. Viajar
2. Ver el techo, cuestionarme cosas que no encuentro las respuestas y frustrarme.
3. Twitter.
4. Lavarme la cara.
5. Ver a Titi y Pilas dormir. (mis perritas)
6. Ir al cine.
7. Pagar cuentas por internet.
8. Pensar que sera de mi en un futuro de 6 meses en adeante.
9. Ahorrar $$
10. Manicure y Pedicure todos los jueves.
11. Leer un buen libro (que no sea de autoayuda!)
12. Abrir mi agenda todos los dias.
13. Quedarme en pijama todo el dia.
14. Ir al aeropuerto a ver llegar el vuelo de Iberia.
15. Ver TV.
16. Criticar la TV nacional.
17. Sentarme un cualquier lado a ver pasar gente e inventar en mi cabea la historia de sus vidas.
18. Googlear estupideces.
19. Escuchar Jamiroquai.
20. Decir Buenos Dias/Tardes/Noches cuando me dan el papelito al entrar a Rio Centro.
21. Hacer limpieza profunda en mi cuarto.
22. Investigar donde sera mi proximo viaje.
23. Escribir en TripAdvisor.
24. Comer shawarma.
25. Ir a probar restaurants nuevos.
26. Dormir todas las noches con la TV prendida.
27. Ver en la pesa que estoy en menos de 110 lbrs.
28. Pedir un vaso de cola cuando todos piden alcohol.
29. Irme a dormir temprano.
30. Caminar escuchando musica.
31. Ver entrenar a Eduardo.
32. Tocarme la nariz con la lengua.
33. Sacarme cuys (o como se diga)
34. Levantarme y lo primero que hago es ver mi bb (bb addict siii)
35. Hacer cuentas.
36. Ver Ecuatorianos en el Mundo.
37. Practicar idiomas. Si, me acerco a cualquier ser que hable franes o italiano para practicar.
38. Ser ciudadana italiana.
39. Comer seco de pollo.
40. Coleccionar lapices.
41. Cine europeo.
42. Bollywood.
43. Imaginarnos el futuro con Eduardo.
44. Leer el periodico.
45. Ser insensible.
46. No meterme en la vida de nadie.
47. Buscar canciones con letras que le den sentido a mi vida.
48. Desempacar.
49. Cuando el telefono de mi casa suena y no contesto.
50. Entrar a paginas de disenadores y ver que han sacado segun la temporada.
51. Ponerme feliz cuando a alguien le va bien (cero envidia)
52. Hacer presupuestos.
53. Llenarme de cremas.
54. Los idiomas.
55. Cannes, Francia.
56. Burj Al Arab.
57. Escuchar Linkin Park.
58. Peinar a Titi y Pilas.
59. Blanqueo de dientes.
60. Ver realities.
61. Escuchar las diferentes opiniones y quedarme callada.
62. Andar a la defensiva.
63. Mi malgenio.
64. Tomar sopas.
65. Buscar quotes de libros que me gustan.
66. Ver por 54877685 vez “Pride and Prejudice”.
67. El acento ingles.
68. Ver videos de actividad paranormal.
69. Mandar ramos de flores.
70. Descubrir las sorpresas.
71. Reirme de estupideces.
72. Pensar que me gustaria escribir y no hacerlo.
73. Ser demasiado organizada.
74. Puntualidad.
75. Pedir diferentes opiniones sobre algo que voy a hacer.
76. Comer.
77. Ir al supermercado.
78. Estar demasiado ocupada.
79. Sacarme la madre cuando hago ejercicio.
80. Dormir.
81. Amar.
82. No ser cursi.
83. Celar.
84. Ver Mundo de Millonarios.
85. Comer carne termino medio.
86. Comer con palitos chinos.
87. Esperar que sea fin de semana.
88. El numero 7.
89. Los lugares frios.
90. Ver peliculas sin subtitulos en frances, italiano o ingles.
91. Ver los carros limpios por dentro y por fuera.
92. Pedir cosas por internet y estar a la expectative de que lleguen.
93. Hacer cheques.
94. Observar.
95. Conseguir siempre lo que quiero.
96. Engreirme.
97. Ir a un lugar y estarpendiente de la calidad del servicio a cliente.
98. Trabajar bajo presion.
99. Ver tv francesa e italiana.
100. Corregir faltas ortograficas.

Viendo el techo.

Shalom queridos pensadores. Disculpen por no haber escrito en tanto tiemo pero soy sincera, no me acerco mucho a mi laptop a pesar de ser una persona relativamente desocupada. Los ultimos meses mi vida ha sido parcialmente monotona en cuanto a actividades diarias. He tenido la oportunidad de recorrer un poco mi pais debido a los feriados. Debo confesar que lo subestimaba bastante y por eso solo viajaba fuera del pais. Me he sorprendido. Si, estoy sorprendida. Encontre mas de lo que esperaba y prometo tener como prioridad recorrer mas por aqui. Eso se debe a que soy una eterna enamorada del extranjero. Dedico mi vida a viajar.

Bueno, mi pasion estos ultimos meses no ha sido la nutricion. Ha sido ver TV. Toda la vida me ha encantado estar sentada al frente del televisor aunque a veces me he alejado debido a las diferentes actividades que realizaba. Ahora, con tiempo de sobra, he viueto a mi verdadera pasion (aparte de viajar). El ignorante que diga que con la TV no se aprende es porque no ve TV o solo ve TV nacional jaja (eso es otro tema al que dedicare un post, soy muy critica al respecto). No se, pienso que hasta del reality mas estupido sacas algo. La conducta humana es tan compleja y fascinante que llega a un punto de ser enviciante. En cuanto a realities, si, es morbo. Pero es interesante. El que digo que no lo es, se esta poniendo una mascara y mintiendo a todos. Pero que mas se puede decir, el mundo es una mentira.

En cuanto a mis momentos de la “Mortalidad de Cangrejo” he pensado que gracias a Adonai no tenemos la respuesta a todo. Tantas interrogantes en mi cabeza que me van comiendo lentamente. Sino fuera asi, mi vida seria tan aburrida. Obviamente quiero las respuestas a muchas cosas pero definitivamente no a todo. Es tan interesante cuestionarse las cosas y darle un sentido propio. Le das tu punto de vista y tu respuesta a las cosas. Eso hace que las interrogantes y sus respuestas sean tan subjetivas y que en teoria pienses que el mundo conpire en contra o a favor tuyo jaja. Como un rompecabezas con piezas propias.

Como siempre desviandome de lo que hablo. Tres temas en un post. Nada concluido. Solo sublimado.

Hora de ir a ver el techo.

Ci vediamo.

A.