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INFINITE PART 2 (PENTAX MX, FUJI C200) Have you seen the sky today? It doesn’t matter if it’s daytime because your eyes look at the sunlight and yet behind it, beyond this atmosphere is infinity, the space they said is inflationary, the space that corresponds to us as long as our species persists on this planet and is our only heritage to know a story. Let's go far away from here and look at the dark matter. Now look at your eyes, look at your smile, look at the hair that curls while you fix your hair and through the movement let go of the matter and attract the mind. Think of the plumage that becomes more and more intense and the beak with force crushes the food and that is when the consciousness is born, approaches and forks in the same sense in which the cosmos surrounds us. The remembrance is memory and consciousness, thought is the same as memory and creativity, it has concordance, and that’s when you think you create infinity through the exact constant of the certainty of the lived act. There is a poem and there is a Bird that, with the power of its soul, analyses the universe and the cosmos while humans don’t understand infinity. Infinity is the study of perpetuity, infinite is the nobility of understanding that nothing can belong to us, infinite is thinking about time and understanding it, creating it, and once made power it’s a solid block of existence that can go further. A subject can walk and look at a bird as a simple concept, while another who is not bound to the limits will understand that this bird is analyzing the universe, that its eyes made of Uranus rocks are fixed while it feeds and is one with everything looking at the existence of infinity. https://www.instagram.com/p/CFp2uN9ntOP/?igshid=1vuuzk2852syh

A STAR HAS BEEN BORN (PENTAX MX, FUJI C200) Maybe I don't know the whole story, however I look at your reflection through my imagination, a pure power that means creating and making a memory exist even when my material and immaterial body wasn’t there that day. And it’s that a little girl with stellar energy had been born and thanks to the silence no one could know her existence. Protected, happy, imaginative, with an appetite that she seemed not to understand, she fell in love with the colors and their shapes, with their independent personalities that called her and invited her to be part of art. The typewriter moves and it’s then that the stellar energy merges, promotes, induces, it is a ray of hope and its ability to diffuse through space allows it to create and very soon because of this the little girl knew its nature, the one that had ceased to be human and was now a Star. Then, that Star being at that time took her own hands as a symbol of nervousness, no one had taught her to be a being that concentrates a nuclear fusion that promotes existence and therefore was overwhelmed by the aggressive din of human life. Fears, tears, anxiety, loss and sadness ... Budha spoke and pointed his finger at the Star on this planet and entrusted her to understand that love and art in the philosophical perspective are an act of creative force to which many beings have looked for a formula but the sensitivity is unique and as an independent entity looks for souls in which to shelter and never in the other way around. So, in that land governed by flowers, silence protects and never erases, whoever believes otherwise is of course an ordinary human and whoever understands it otherwise is therefore another species other than a man or woman. In that land of flowers where all greet the star beings, that Starky shaped being taking a brush and ink or a colored pencil allows life to proliferate and her love of colors shows what Budha's finger pointed out, with affection and with the deepest love to its existence. https://www.instagram.com/p/CFp13yFnXG-/?igshid=1tt2tr6vbvwa0

PERFUME THAT DISSIPES PART 1 THE WIND WHISTLES THE NAME OF THE PARK (Nikon F100, Kodak 400 Ultramax) It is melancholic to think that you had a job for 2 hours and you have to dedicate yourself to wandering from one place to another to make time pass and be able to continue with your task hours ahead. How much more could time go through? Always what is necessary, between 4-5 hours is enough and it is imperative to live them in the obfuscating anxiety of human life. By the time anxiety approaches me, I have already begun to imagine well how your face could be today, it’s a kind of entertainment that I plan to achieve without the use of some software or even a good illustrator, but it’s also a martyrdom to think about my hands clumsy, shaky and unable to use a pencil firmly because I was never very skilled in art and, adding to this, my rolling imagination like a marble that you can only follow up on if you focus your attention on the colors that blend under the influence of speed. Ah, the imagination! What would have happened to me without your company? In the place where I am, there isn’t much human life, I really like the place and that is why I ask the wind to change its language so that no one knows where this small park is, that no one knows the name of that woman whom I mean, about the lack of a photograph to remember correctly, of the planter where I sat for long hours waiting under a well-drawn plan to find her. When I realize they have already traveled 2 hours of the necessary time, I open my computer and start searching. Always keywords and yet my search takes me elsewhere to amaze me. I had finally found “L'homme inattendu” by Yasmina Reza, an extremely sensitive work that I had wanted for years to be able to read in its original language and not its simple translation into English. Still, the deep surprise came for this 54-year-old man when I read a name, that one of the translator and editor ... it was her, the one that my memory tried to recreate with effort and concentration, the one with green eyes and the bright concentration when she asks something to the plants. https://www.instagram.com/p/CEh0a30HR-f/?igshid=1e1454vhtk1d4

A CORNER WITHOUT ECLIPSE (Rolleiflex SL35E, Ilford FP4+) I took the flower with my hand Almost I reached the feeling So, I leave my book in the nightstand For the darkened corner, just revealing It seems that here is the distress There’s no kind of believing A desire for having a life since childhood All is just a deceiving For every step you take Other action is noiseless How many machines are in charge? The problem is the lack of feelings The blindness and the scars Who can understand the darkness? Machines are everywhere Humans and robots There’s no difference So, that’s why I love butterflies Theirs sweeties flights The coloured skies The fast moment of their lives But just in front of human eyes Now, conceptualize the truth Time is a wonderful tool It’s the limit of every weak mind It’s the padlock for the fearful It’s the music for the deaf Underneath the Butterflies’ wings Exists the secret of the universe The irrepressible force and... The heroic verse https://www.instagram.com/p/CEhzWogHCpm/?igshid=4hixnf0q8ehf

One point of infinity love (Nikon F100, Fuji C200) The hands don’t tremble, they feel how a special force runs through each part from the wrist to the last phalanx of each finger and then concentrates attracting more and more energy from the environment to give life, to extend a stay a little longer. And while you sleep, you don't realize what things I do with my hands and through those caresses that run across your face. So after a few minutes I happily glimpse your smile, finally today it is more than 7 years since you no longer have nightmares. It took some time but in the end you know that we have overcome them, that is why we have gone together to the far gardens of Ceres to lie next to each other just like the first time I held you in my hands so that you could sleep on my chest in the dark. And just as I place my hands around you to raise you to the skies and tell you that together we traveled to outer space the first time, today I look at you again making every second worth a power that makes it timeless, using a formula that a simple mortal wouldn’t understand and that is how you enter in my soul to become part of me and make us stardust when time dictates my departure ... together, only then, we could overcome time and its overwhelming pace. That is true faith, that which is exalted and shines when the fear of death is lost. In the end, no one said that oneself could not merge with other souls to become a form beyond the imagination of any other conscious being capable of understanding the natural environment a little. Right now 17 birds, 24 fish, 4 cats, more than 33 dogs, about 111 worms, 45 fruit worms, 2 mantises and 22 bees are already just one soul. I promised you not to cry... https://www.instagram.com/p/CDudWeiHt2B/?igshid=vu6hyyfqydui

EL ÚLTIMO ALIENTO DEL MAGO. PARTE 3 EL SECRETO (Nikon F4, Ilford Pan 400) Me di cuenta de mi error, creo que no había retorno a un punto pasado de mi juventud para poder obligarme a recapitular, para alcanzar y mirar lo que estaba presenciando hoy. Tenía un dolor intenso en mi pecho, pero afortunadamente sabía que no era parte de mi debilidad al respirar, era mi corazón generando un fuego fatuo que llamaba a la muerte y debido a mi deseo de no querer morir dentro de la ciudad de los humanos deseé fervientemente que todo a mi alrededor se convirtiera en un pantano rico en colores pardos y negros profundos tal cual sentía debía de ser mi muerte, el sudor ya recorría mis mejillas sin recordar acaso como era la sensación real de tener mojada mi camiseta por las largas caminatas que realizaba para pensar solo en universo y no en mi. Ahora se que no recuerdo el tiempo, no recuerdo cuando deje de sentir esa satisfacción de vida pues es fácil olvidarla para los que nacen queriendo ser magos pues entregan una parte de su alma con tal de ser longevos y quizás eso es la raíz del olvido que me embriaga. No recuerdo el tiempo, el tiempo no tiene significado para mi porque no me abandona pero no engendra influencia porque deje de vivir ahí desde mi juventud. ¿Cuál es el secreto? El secreto es que Dios al no engendrar secretos ni egoísmos se alojó en el alma de los animales y las plantas y cualquier ser vivo que no tuviera forma similar a la humanoide para vigilar su creación, para saber donde se engendraba el mal en aquellos que querían ostentar conocimiento. A través de los ojos de la nobleza de los animales o la suavidad de los tejidos vegetales y del exoesqueleto de los ácaros y muchas más características, rodeó a esos seres y los clasificó. Nosotros los magos que estamos a punto de morir sabemos tal hecho, por eso no podemos ir al mismo lugar que los simples mortales por una razón primordial, nosotros miramos directamente a los ojos a la creación y a través de ellos las leyes que forman el cosmos. https://www.instagram.com/p/CDucai6HjjK/?igshid=9ls9ettt1gsf

NO ONE HAS THE PEN PART 15 (Pentax MX, Kodak 400 TX) AN IMAGINARY SOCIETY How do you explain to a 4 years old boy that he was born into a worldly society, lacking in order and honesty? How, then, do you explain to him that later as an adult he will realize that the science practiced on his planet is riddled with envy and empty competitiveness? For those who don’t belong to a select group cannot aspire to be creative as a scientific researcher. Because laughably to most humans, an art-based society sounds utopian, and more so to those who are extremist followers of a self-destructive social system ruled by other beings just as incapable of leading but still called presidents, senators, judges of the supreme court. How do you explain to that child that he was born in a totally failed state of governance? The greed and uncontrollable desire within the human heart has no place to create a society based on science, much less for a society led by art. That love for real art, dimensioning and shaping it, knowing where it comes from and how to create and recreate it cannot be obtained by anyone. It is not enough to hold a brush and know color theory; it is not enough to have the expensive camera and not take the image to the limit of the imagination or even know how to play with reality; It is not enough to know musical theory and not have it as a blessed language that directs your soul, much less it is valid to call yourself a writer when you do not test the language and challenge the reader. Because in the end, human beings aren’t interested in challenges, science or art, they are interested in easy and comfortable life without search or meditation, without any attachment to any philosophy, without formulating questions. https://www.instagram.com/p/CCmJBk5H81m/?igshid=16g328p59ye7i

JACQUELINE’S DREAMS PART 2 (Rolleiflex SL35E, Kodak 400 TMAX) There are lives that can’t be recreated no matter how much nature tries to bring a being back, both physically and intellectually, and Jacqueline's is one of them. I remember seeing her in a pearl-colored dress, shiny enough to stun me. She was wearing classic black high heel shoes, almost as if I was watching Audrey Hepburn return to the sidewalks of this world because the concrete softened when it felt the fine touch of her feet, undulating it and made it have dreams. I could see an agitation unmatched by the walk she had just taken and a beautiful crystalline beads of sweat appeared on her thin lips. It’s such a perfect helplessness that I felt when looking at her that created in me the inability to articulate enough words that prevented me from asking her that regardless of time and space, there in the distant town from which she came from, she allowed me to dance with her one time. That same powerlessness that nature feels when not being able to recreate Jacqueline again is the one that my mind feels when not being able to tangibly construct it in my memory; my only firm and existing bond isn’t only the desire to take her by the waist and dance but on the contrary to know one of her weak points, the reason for her insecurity, clearlylicepected if you looked her straight in the eye. https://www.instagram.com/p/CCmIBwPH4ZC/?igshid=1u58jj5z3r39b

花の挨拶 (Flowers’ Greetings) PART 4 (Nikon F100, Ilford Pan 400) BELOVED DARKNESS I can’t tell those who know me that at night, about a year and a half ago, I caught a glimpse of the sky calling me. This was a point on the horizon full of light that soon became an ovoid light and with the passage of the seconds, its semi-major axis simply lengthened so much that it ended up becoming a beam of light that surrounded my entire field of vision, encompassing the entire horizon along 180 degrees. Everyone could believe in fantastic questions, some more crazy than others but the truth is that that light was death who welcomed me. You cannot visualize death so easily and to be able to do it correctly you must understand that she herself is the mother of Darkness and how she allows light to sneak between each distant and inhospitable hiding place in the universe. And I spoke to her ... hugged her, I became part of her and reaffirmed that the humans in his intense excess of overpopulating the planet and his growing narcissism should be judged and in any case carried to the mathematical limit of their extinction. It is that the Death had decided the act full of honor to put an end to human blindness had to be inflicted by a human himself and by no one else and that was visibly accepted by all those protective extraterrestrial races of existence, Protectors of the unity of nature ! https://www.instagram.com/p/CBopNVSnu1l/?igshid=1n5jbxmgh7tfe

花の挨拶 (Flowers’ Greetings) PART 3 DIE BLUMEN LEUCHTEN FÜR DIE HÄNDE. (Pentax MX, Kodak 100 TMAX) “What means crystal? Is that an hexagonal conformation? That’s a compound pistil! The Time speaks loud without hesitation ...without an Space Station And when a flower says “goodbye” Be prepared for extinction This planet was like a Bonsai Is this an affliction or a premonition? Is there anyone hearing?” After reading the poem, there was inside him an incapacity induced by despair, by the philosophical constant to plan a life that no longer belonged to him, that which was already part of a greater plan and which meant giving that breath of energy with which he was born just for saving nature and a few hundred of humans. That inability invaded his fingers, his thought, his time and made him falter in order to complete the necessary messages full of clamor to awaken the sleeping consciousness of those few humans out there. And it is that today a man who broke into a room full of diplomats concluded that the lack of human empathy was incalculable and incurable, and as the days after, despite all a play on words, made him smile because it was perhaps that the phrase "the days fade away” that his mind had translated it as “The God is flying away” and with that phrase he played with all the possible languages that he could use. However, that smile faded as he walked between the wind and the surrounding flowers of the South Garden because he heard the voice of a white flower saying goodbye and announcing the extinction. https://www.instagram.com/p/B--0kYAHTFm/?igshid=145ugfayoq7b3

IS IT POSSIBLE THAT MY FEET NEVER TOUCHED THIS MATTER? (Nikon F100, Agfa APX 400) When you haven’t yet learned to let nature express itself, you can’t tell yourself to be a good artist, a good scientist, a good observer or a good human. Each set of steps that a being performs during a day trace a perfect equation. Where everyone looks only steps, others as a minority observe equations and their graphs and then if you could look closely you would know that "THE ONE" is also observing and is comforted with each graph in front of him. He watches a bird fly and its graphics, he sees a being walking and its graphics expressed in all possible realities and it also looks at the cat that jumps from the darkness to greet him even when a day before it bit his hand when it felt pain while he caressed a wound and tried to inject life. THE ONE turns once more and the darkness prevails as he watches the cat groom himself, then he looks again at another graph and he knows that the walk of a dog and his conscience call him with love and then he looks at all the graphs at the same time while thousands of beings from a certain race travels around its native planet and looks dreamily at the sky trying to understand how the universe is built ... however, perhaps that is just a dream for THE ONE since the human race is lacking in its entirety of some kind of sensitivity, only a limited number of them are free from envy, mistrust, suspicion, stupidity and dogma. https://www.instagram.com/p/B-SZeRnHfEg/?igshid=1gh5oxpbribyp

花の挨拶 (Flowers’ Greetings) PART 2 (Nikon F100, Kodak 400 T-Max) ANPU From the incessant search that seemed to fill my soul with a sharp desire, I preferred to leave the books on my left side of the bed and begin to sleep without realizing completely that it was already 3:45 a.m. I analyze myself in those moments and I know that maybe I just wanted to sleep and talk. So if there must be a place in the world to find the answer, I must first imagine being the one who has no defined parents, ask for the grace of his benefactor power and tell him that I need to reach enlightenment not only by closing my eyes but also by keep them perpetually open during the work. Anpu, the one closest to enlightenment while transcending to non-material life, answers me and nods during the previous night and makes his word rumble, making the moon never fade even though the sun has already reached the zenith. I realize such depth in their Egyptian words that as I walk through the city I look at the sky looking at the beauty of the moon so visible mixed in the overwhelming heat of this dehydrated and dying future. The teacher who learned to calibrate and scrutinize the characteristics of souls by touching them proceeds to touch me and teach me how to touch others... the dream changes and then at that moment my eyes open looking at 4 silhouettes, my conscience doesn’t lie much less my soul; the Master touches the flower from its base and both recognize each other, so I open my eyes and look at the clock to prepare myself because in the allegory of time I must go out and look at the moon that ANPU prepared me because between that dreams I went to the future one day ahead and saw it all. This night, as in my dream, those 4 silhouettes among them the teacher is who will make the flowers shine now in the material plane. https://www.instagram.com/p/B9SzrsTn34z/?igshid=15t2f32yyw775

花の挨拶 (Flowers’ Grettings) PART 1 (Nikon F100, KODAK 400 T-MAX) DIFFERENT I know that you are there around me, that the pharaoh is only the best-made representation that humans could achieve from the inheritance of the distant point born in The Hanging Gardens and thus we recreate images of our origins and of course of the true parents of the Jardin du Roi located in Domain de l'enfocement, Anse Royale. Who are the parents of the garden that recreates my mind while I’m walking and returning for answers? My soul doesn’t stop exclaiming within my mind one more reason to dialogue with myself, to unite one more point in the universe and propose the idea. And as I walk aside a handful of blind diplomats, poor deer from the accumulation of capital and instruments of a vulgar idea of oppressing power, I finally find my way to the museum hall after the small fountain of water today already dry. I don’t know if it’s a process against the clock, I get agitated and try to take the multiplied approach and I feel the messages pass in my veins and my skin, I perceive them and even with the overwhelming heat and having around about less than 2% of plants that some once there were in the hanging gardens, my eyes are on the figure that should finally be, it’s not the Pharaoh No! There is no possibility that he is the father of the gardens, the father of the true Eden to whom the flowers greet, doesn’t appear again in the human mind. https://www.instagram.com/p/B9SydZWH2G0/?igshid=smbs0vibnd1z

DECISIONS WITHOUT SOUNDS (Nikon F100, Kodak 400 TMAX) I love the sound of the saxophone when it mimics the bohemian life that is born in small clusters within the city. It makes me long for and remember the sweet sensation of the tangible again as when in a few moments of history I have been able to touch life itself to preserve it and not for reaping it. The term "Blind" or in any case "Devouring" brings to me the most delicious and less pretentious ideas far away from egolatry and more near to the Unknown because those words also describes my work, my unique skill that no other entity can copy and... nevertheless, before the futility that human vision itself repeated in billions of beings, I can describe the truth and tell them that death wouldn’t vote for its extinction but every second of their existence it becomes more plausible to touch such topic. And in the beautiful corner where I stay today, the voice of a Messozoprano makes my stay happy by allowing me to dialogue with myself and in complete communion with existence. “How to strip the humankind of the corruption that is born in it, how to avoid its blindness, how to make humans raise their sensitivity and empathy? I don’t believe that all of this should be treated with faith, much less I will place my hope in bet for them for that great majority... but for others, for the most unknown and apparently imperceptible beings to the system I’ll make a detailed study.” https://www.instagram.com/p/B79XRFqnMCJ/?igshid=i13ragw80oc

PATHFINDER THE CYBERPUNK PART 6 EVERYDAY DEATH (Pentax MX, Kodak Vision 250D) I feel my heart beating and I perceive it as if I could clearly describe it as the flutter of a bee. Undoubtedly it’s that feeling that I have already cataloged several times as the one that goes beyond the simple adrenaline of the moment, that one that persists in my soul seeking the attachment to death, that unbreakable union between It and me and that gives me the certainty of being able to walk to nirvana with eyes wide open. And it’s perhaps that I really feared death early, I had a breakdown in the middle of my youth and then an abysmal fall that left me as an experience to remember the sweet hug of non-existence, always warm and comforting, I feel that I love it ironily and with that, I am prepared to give my life for the freedom and the preservation of nature. Possessing the power of death is simple, just not afraid of it and from that in the high state of consciousness knowing that transcendence is a path already traveled before where and while everything is drawn in the mind. Death is surrounded by art and a dark absorbing desire, a desire that is satisfied by providing the best of oneself ... that's why I remember that in my youth I learned to love death, to talk with it without adjectives and I cleaned my mind in such a way that It by itself has no name within me, is a part of my soul and is part of the power in my fingers every occasion that a computer is in front of me or rather will be every occasion that I accept to be willing to give everything for freedom and peace, that which the human being does not know. https://www.instagram.com/p/B7Hr0wuHPDt/?igshid=1d60hifdk4q21

STOICISM AND NIGHT PRAGMATISM PART 35 ENCOUNTER WITH THE 33 (PENTAX MX, Kodak Portra 160) I see people's faces, I look at my face, I look at my eyes through an image created in my mind where there is a mirror and there is no despair in it; However, today is different. I look at the faces of those who could never have a chance and didn’t demand it, didn’t want or have greed more than the breath of life, the smile in the purest action working the land and watching their children grow up playing with small cars that don’t belong to some well known brand. There is a smile in those children around the world who have no greed for the material and their intelligence that should be able to flourish in the vastness of the universe as well as in the immortality of their conscience; All these people deserve pure freedom living together with wildlife of all kinds. Some time ago I faced the reality of the 33rd degree, the truth behind the photograph that describes the decadent life of Queen Elizabeth and the head of the Rockefellers, of the disorder and decomposition of the soul of those who hold power over the masses, those who won’t survive and will never know how to understand the 33, 333, 11, and the domination of 2, through the pagan rites they offer ... https://www.instagram.com/p/B6bq9FtHwPG/?igshid=wpptbznjkv5c

PATHFINDER THE CYBERPUNK PART 5 THE HAMMER FOR THE SWEET VISIONARY (Pentax MX, Kodak Portra 800) Some time ago, an echo somewhere in my notes seemed to be part of some kind of sound effects which could be from a certain movie set in the scenery around my life. I remember being in control of the video game console and remembering the large number of those games who have passed through my hands and still, perceiving the poor mastery over the machines, with that I tried to approach the vile and empty perception of a human in power who manipulates at will as many more beings than any other individual could ever imagine. It is empty, it is devoid of logic, it is plagued with contempt that can not lead to anything other than hatred itself, it is the reality of the last days of this society that must be broken with a hammer and, once damaged, avoid at all costs that the selfish feeling of private property, greed over the greed, the overwhelming impetus for maintaining the economic concept of "quality of life" and "purchasing power" persists in the future. So, seeing the screen of the computer, Turn my inner self to make fun about the situation with a happily game of words because at last I can stop looking at the false colors that overshadowed the “terminal” function, it was time to forget the poor click without soul and sense of consciousness, I saw that a brown fierce color appeared, sometimes turning into stains the final texture of my operating system approached. My beloved Linux finally ran completely and every second reaches a glimpse of the freedom that had been stolen from everyone else at the beginning of network surveillance without prior authorization. https://www.instagram.com/p/B5_7ZNdnFHL/?igshid=1c8uase6mfw35

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