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"I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough, to stop in company with the rest at evening is enough, to be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough, to pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then? I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea."
Short extract from Walt Whitman's poem, I Sing the Body Electric
Short extract from Walt Whitman's poem, I Sing the Body Electric
![Siren on the Sea - [OPEN]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/85402926-1786-47c5-aa82-d6f2e29275dd/dgm3uik-da6edc7a-bb8f-4062-8124-b82ef3b853fc.jpg/v1/fill/w_311,h_400,q_70,strp/siren_on_the_sea____open__by_dnataoai_dgm3uik-400t.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.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.LDGcwNhwVqS7W7xhxQIH2rYjpiOIRwzS4bilbIjz0UQ)
Transcending
Escher got it right.
Men step down and yet rise up,
the hand is drawn by the had it draws,
and a woman is poised on her very own shoulders.
Without you and me this universe is simple,
run with the regularity of a prison.
Galaxies spin along stipulated arcs,
stars collapse at the specified hour,
crows u-turn south and monkeys rut on schedule.
But we, whom the Cosmos shaped for a billion years
to fit this place, we know it failed.
For we can reshape,
reach an arm through the bars
and, Escher-like, pull ourselves out.
And while whales feeding on mackerel
are confined forever in the sea,
we climb the waves,
look down fro
25.05.13 Es una actitud ridiculamente inmadura
Hay tantas cosas que echo de menos. Solo por nombrar algunas podría decir que extraño treméndamente mi piel lisa, matizada, joven. Echo de menos la forma de mis brazos, con una estructura muscular que ridículamente me hacía recordar a esos globos largos que uno podía apretar y moldear hasta definir cada espacio. Extraño mi rostro, delimitado con facciones mucho más finas en cuanto a los pómulos y el simple contorno de la mandíbula que, si bien nunca fue perfecta, me entregaba bastante más confianza en relación al tamaño de mi nariz en el perfil. Echo muchísimo de menos mi c
Ciclos
Los ciclos avanzan, recorren, se llenan de oxígeno y flotan como las nubes...
Hay cosas que escapan a mi imaginación.
Se retiran nadando sobre las montañas, dan giros estratégicos sobre mi casa y retornan al centro, al todo, al viento.
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