Some sleeping willows

Milady of Oz

2011-09-28T18:59:00.004+01:00

From her presence and her manners she was a queen, from what you could see in her eyes she was a star. I don't mean this in the vulgar sense of the word used to described people who have achieved certain notoriety, I mean it in the most literal possible way. At risk of sounding dull and sentimental, I dare say she definitely shone in an unexpected and mesmerizing way. Nevertheless, she was sweet and kind and if she was aware of her astral quality she was ever so subtle in demonstrating it.

I was one of the lucky ones, the ones that got to know her well I even was let in into the intricacies of the not so bright sides of her character. What she became later nobody could have anticipated, but I always had the sense that it was coming. Greatness is in everything she does, except in those moments when she decides not to act on it. Whether as a conscious decision or because of something she cannot help, those are the tinny little spots that remind us (and perhaps remind her as well) that she is in fact one of us and in my case in particular one of my own.

These are only words

2011-05-28T23:35:00.008+01:00

I have pictured it many times in my mind, how it would be like when I finally awake. It will be cold at first, possibly disorientating, definitelly frightening. I imagine I will call out a name, any name, but you will know I'm calling you. You might turn slightly towards me only driven by the faint shadow of the hope that accompanied you all this time (All this time!), a mere reflex by now. In the end you will walk away, with your peculiar gait and perhaps with a soft smile on your face, with your hands tucked into the pockets of the black coat and the collar up, triumphant.

My voice will start becoming stronger, my lungs will start filling with air and my whispers will become screams. But it makes no difference, you will be long gone before I can manage to get on my feet, before I can start giving the first few steps down the hill. I will mutter something, probably trying to remember some words and trying to figure out their meaning. I will make a few attempts at this before deciding that it is not worth the effort, there is no more need for words, there will never be any need for words.

So when I am able to, I will start walking towards the voices and the noise and when I finally get there I will find all sorts of things. There will be praise and love. There will be disappointment and sorrow. I might be able to stay there for a long time. If I'm lucky enough I might be able to stay there for as long a time as I was away. And I will know I'm here now, finally here now! But amongst all those voices yours will be missing and I will know, as certain as the morning, that to me it is lost forever. And as the tick of a clock I will constantly hear it: That moment, the blink, that heartbeat that my heart might have skipped and then the click, the light, your silhouette growing smaller, engraved in the inside of my eyes so I will never dare to fall asleep again.

Elaine

2010-12-04T23:35:00.004Z

I don't remember my name so I go by a sobriquet. I used to be able to walk around this place on the blackest nights, I used to know it well but now I stumble with the shadows all the time.
I don't remember my name and if I did I would not speak. I would not tell the story of how I came to be on the wrong shore, on the opposite side.
I don't remember my name, try as I might. Oblivion lured me in and promised me peace on the condition that I would stay. And as I walked further into the maze I cut the thread and never looked back again.

Alice was also three.

2010-05-28T18:54:00.005+01:00

Debo confesar que he caido de nuevo en el abismo,
regresé otra vez sobre mis pasos y me perdí...

"Last night I dreamed that I was dreaming of you"

Y en estos días no salgo a caminar bajo la lluvia,
estos días intento concentrarme en la línea que dibuja mi memoria
y es difícil porque la niebla es cada vez más densa,
el toque ya no es suficiente y los recuerdos no me mantienen en tierra.

"And you danced to the shadow of a black poplar tree"

Debo confesar que he caido de nuevo en el abismo,
y esta vez el miedo no ha hecho efecto
no me detiene y no cambia nada
y no sé cuan larga será esta vez la caida
y por primera vez, no tengo certeza alguna de lo que quedará al final.

"And I watched you as you disappeared. I watched you as you disappeared. I watched you..."

Trout and Squirrel

2010-05-07T11:26:00.002+01:00

So in the dark I heard the chords,
while I was hiding from the words,
there was a web to break the fall,
there was a shadow on the wall.

And so it was when I looked up
there was a mirror and a cup,
along came squirrel and the trout
and then a smile replaced the pout.

And as I walk out of the woods
and gently caring for my wounds
I hold this star, but not to weep,
for it to sing me in my sleep.

This much...I know...

2009-08-07T00:48:00.003+01:00

These pretty empty days, this pretty empty city full of people and one missing...
And these gray skies, even when the sun shines and this wet cigarette that I cannot smoke and these numb hands... it will all pass.
I have that voice calling from the other side and those eyes that are still looking at me, amongst all these people, they still look at me even from afar and amidst the mist. And the thought soothes and I can breathe and feel the warmth, I can keep on my feet and walk.
So without waiting for the rain to stop I will keep walking until I get home.

Dear Vincent,

2009-06-25T14:37:00.012+01:00

There is a hole in the wall and I have not been able to fill it up and the winter will soon be here and the snow will come and I fear, for the house will most certainly flood.
Dear Vincent, I've been away and I do not know now for how long I'll stay and even though I would like to, I wouldn't dare to say.

There is a broken window pane and the floor is rotten and the ghost that used to lurk the attic has abandoned us for good.

There's still a garden but the flowers are dead and I'm afraid I will not see them blossom again.

Dear Vincent won't you come? Come to visit before the fall.

Jake Spider's Lullabies

2009-01-10T00:53:00.005Z

There's that old clock on the shelf to the left of the record player and that mirror with the rusty frame on the opposite wall. There is also the warm smell of wood and something else none of us could recall. There is that long hall we used to walk thinking it would lead us to a different place, one far far away from the one we were when we started, and it often did...
There is the smell of coffee in the morning and boiled milk in the afternoons and those beautiful hands a bit broken and tired.
There is that hat that was too big for us but fitted perfectly on his head and it made him look taller and there is the smile that always came with it.
There is the glint and the masks and the ships floating in the sky as they danced to the music of the violin that came from the other side.
And there is all this because there is no other place it could go. It lies here now blasted and yet intact, faded but tangible and it remains if only for a fraction of a moment if only for us to keep coming back.

On how I lost my sequin but didn't lose my buttons.

2008-12-27T20:42:00.009Z

We were sitting there drinking and relying on the stars to give us an idea of who we were, mostly as a joke but maybe hoping that the ridiculous sketch would get us near the truth, if only for the lack of better ways to grasp some meaning or to make up a decent story out of all those pieces that for some reason refused to fall into place. And we were joking about how good things where, for some if not for all, in spite of all the bumps. Mostly I was thinking that this is my third drink and maybe I should not get another one and maybe I should stop thinking as well and just try and stay still for a bit because I frequently get lost, even in my own thoughts.
But in the meantime we were walking again, out in the cold, and laughing... talking about everything at the same time and for a minute there it might seem we are actually getting somewhere.
So these are the faces I see and those are the voices I remember whenever I start to grow tired of meandering, of wondering, of contemplating whatever it is that is inside this little room. Those are the eyes who have peered into it through that tiny little window, just because there happened to be a light on.

Out of the blue

2008-11-26T18:55:00.005Z

Among green roses, with the sun in my face (although sometimes I still prefer the rain) I was finally coming out when this little nightingale comes to tell me all about that time when she looked at her reflection and thought she was a bluebird and waited for a while... waited for a consort who would sing with her to the dawn.
But after a while of waiting, the impatient curious nightingale decides it is time to leave this place and sets off to distant lands and some strange places with not a thing but her songs and leaving nothing behind. So naive little nightingale learned the proper songs and started to forget the old ones and it would be a nice thing to say that everything was going well, but as it happened the nightly melancholic mood still leaked through her now cheerful tunes making them sound rather eerie even to the brightest of the skies. And yet, this stubborn pretty nightingale refused to give up hope and kept singing until one particular day someone sang back. Well, this song was nothing like any other song this auspicious but fumbling nightingale had heard before and it came from underneath the sycamore where taking shelter laid a skylark with a broken wing. It then occurred to our foolish weary bird that she could stay under the sycamore for a little while with her new friend and listen, and so she stayed... and listened... and so blissful was the moment that the day went by and twilight came and there, still, they remained. Only then, this moony nightingale remembered again her fondness for the night and the beauty of its sounds and stayed up all night, oblivious to the fact that this night would soon be past. Little nightingale however, assured me that this night, unlike any other night, bided until the wound healed and it was time to part.
And yet, when the morning came, poor little nightingale did not dare to fly that high and as she lost sight of her lark she thought of singing but she was out of breath and the sound was not loud enough...
Oh well, I was already going out you see, but after the story I think I will stay with my broken nightingale and her frail heart. She will sing and I will laugh and we'll get lost into the lighlessness that seems hollow, but who can really tell what we might find.

|ji ng ks|

2008-11-06T00:11:00.000Z

I would buy it good Sir but the truth is… I don’t believe in magic - says the witch who has grown tired of playing useless tricks and casting flawed spells -. But it has never failed, you say? And it will give me all the strength and the grace, all the talents and the music and the eloquence? Ah, but there you see my dear sir; I believe you should know that I no longer care for words at all. Yes, I heard! It requires no effort, I will fall asleep and in the morning everything will be there. I must admit that it is quite tempting, but it's just that I don’t see how that will make any difference.
Oh, you think it was Destiny’s make that you happened to cross my path tonight? Well, perhaps you’re right but if you look around you will realise that it’s been a cunning act from this Fate you talk about, although it could well be just a mistake in keeping track of time, because everyone’s gone already so there’s no more use for those marvels you’re offering me now. Farewell then good man, go along! However, before you go, since you’re so keen on potions and charms take this one here. It contains my memories and dreams, my secrets and incantations. Find them a new vessel fit for them. Find them someone fearless and skilful, someone fresh and full of hope but most importantly, someone with enough patience to make them work.
And if that Destiny you mentioned earlier should make us meet again we will pass by each other’s side as strangers because you won’t recognize my face and yours, I will certainly forget.

2008-10-31T00:14:00.000Z

Well... if you're not here when I wake up,
would you please take the kite...
I would't know what to do with it otherwise

What's with the stupid hat?

2008-10-24T12:39:00.000+01:00

She comes again and tells me this time she'll make it and she's all over the place! But she is convinced and her resolution even made me think she could be right, until I noticed... the hat. As I take a better look at her and I contemplate those amazingly dark eyes I come to recognise that spark (again), the one that precedes every single attempt ant that she swears it's new... every single time.
"By the way I feel now" - she says- "I know this is going to change everything!".
To be perfectly honest I would have probably believed her this time, I have to admit that there are many things that have, in fact, changed quite a bit, and of course I want to believe it! I want to see it happen, once and for all, but it's just that little detail that hides behind her smile, the constant factor in every one of her little trials.
So in realising this, and knowing that I would not be able to make her see it, I decided to do as always and just smile, enjoy the light while it lasts as she goes around glimmering for everyone else to see, as she begins to feel much better and happier and stronger.
One more time I won't say a word and I'll try not to give away my ominous thoughts and I'll wait (again)... hope for the best... until I see the spark fade away and everything going back to its normal state. But in the meantime I'll hang on to the possibility, however unlikely, that this time before the jump, she will finally dig it! Then everything will actually change, and we won't be sitting here again later, thinking of the next step to take.
But ultimately if this one turns out to be another mishap, I think I would still stay and wait for the next rush, even for the next collision and maybe... for the next fall.

Schrödinger's cat

2008-10-12T14:34:00.001+01:00

I had thought about this for a long time, I had the words prepared for such a long time and as the days went by I guess I just figured I wouldn't need them anymore so when the moment came, as I started to speak, I realized I had forgotten them.
Oh well... it passed me by, like so many others.
I know the procedure, I've been here before so It should be easy (easier than before) now it's just a matter of letting things slip away, and yet that question keeps popping up, even though I promised I wouldn't fall for it again; what if...
No point resisting so go on then... open the box! Who's coming out now?
I hope you're not expecting the answers because I don't have them and to be perfectly honest I think I just don't want to know them anymore.
It's fine then I'll stay and fight but only for a while because I think there are still some other things I have to do. So if it's not today, we'll have to find some other place, maybe even some new faces, some other game to play. So it's not now... It must have been some other time...

Did I not?

2008-10-11T20:16:00.001+01:00

Woke up at 3 a.m this morning with no recollection of what I had been dreaming, with a slight feeling of anxiety and not really knowing where I was. With so many possibilities...
In the end nothing really had changed I was lying on my couch just like the night before (and I can't remember how many before that one).
I will eventually convince myself that this is better than that other place we were living in. I know in time I will end up admitting that certainty is not always the best option. In the meantime I'll just write even if it's only so I won't forget...