13th fl.

time traveler

[ddalbs]

Land of the Sun

[ddalbs]

Scars, spectacles

Months and months have passed, yet a voice in me still leans toward that first ripple, when our paths almost brushed, like two currents in the slow tide — a collision of hope, soft, impossible, unclaimed.

And I fear that even a thousand years from now, my soul will wander the starry places we would have walked, searching for traces of our presence imagined, trying to reclaim a longing that quietly slipped away, moved by the whims of providence— a whisper of love for someone I never met, yet, somehow, already lost.

L.L.Mendez

[ddalbs]

At every door

[ddalbs]

She had a house

Song to the Siren:

Long afloat on shipless oceans I did all my best to smile 'Til your singing eyes and fingers Drew me loving to your isle

And you sang: "Sail to me Sail to me Let me enfold you

Here I am Here I am Waiting to hold you"

Did I dream you dreamed about me? Were you hare when I was fox

Now my foolish boat is leaning Broken lovelorn on your rocks

For you sing, "Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow: O my heart, O my heart shies from the sorrow"

I'm as puzzled as the new born child I'm as troubled as the tide: Should I stand amid the breakers? Should I lie with death my bride?

Hear me sing, "Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you: Here I am, here I am, waiting to hold you" .

[ddalbs]

West of the sun

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Shining

[ddalbs]

PorcoRosso

[ddalbs]

Un lugar soleado para gente sombria

"El chingolo es un hombre, por ejemplo. Era un cantante que andaba en un caballo blanco, como un 'Knight', un caballero de armadura y laúd. Era el unico que cantaba en el pueblo y quería que la situación permaneciera así. Un día apareció otro cantor, un viejo, con su guitarra, y a la gente le gusto mucho su voz. El rubio del caballo no lo soportó, lo increpó, y lo mató. En el pueblo no habia lugar para dos cantantes. Fue preso, claro, pero en la celda se le concedió la metamorfosis y salió volando por entre las rejas. Tiene copete rojo porque, en aquella época, a los presos les ponían un gorro colorado."

(Mariana Enriquez, Los Pájaros de la noche)

[ddalbs]

Lumber

[ddalbs]

Ghostscents

[ddalbs]

pieces of strings

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seaviews

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Craters

the Lady Morella

[ddalbs]

ghostrings

"The past is not one separate place. It is many, many places, and they are always ready to rise into the present. One minute it is the 1590's, the next is the 1920s. And it is all related. It is all the accumulation of time. It builds up and builds up and can catch you violently off guard at any moment. The past resides inside the present, repeating, hiccupping, reminding you of all the -stuff that no longer is.- It bleeds out from road signs and plaques on park benches and songs and surnames and faces and the covers of books. Sometimes just the sight of a tree or a sunset can smack you with the power of every tree or sunset you have ever seen and there is no way to protect yourself. There is no possible way of living in a world without books or trees or sunsets. There just isn't.

'Are you OK?', Camille asks me, her hand resting on the cover of her book, so only the word 'tender' is visible. 'Yes, I'm still getting these headaches, though,''

[M.Haig, 'How to Stop Time']

[ddalbs]

crumbs

headwinds

[ddalbs]

Southwest Lands

[ddalbs]

anywhereoutofthisworld