Pez volador

Hace dos días que estoy en esto... dándole vueltas al revuelo de hojas sueltas que eran las historias de mi juventud, a las fotografías opacas que ocupan un espacio inerte en las hojas de mis álbumes(?). Creo que el pasado se me quedó en las venas, me bulle con el presente que salta entre montañas lejanas y se esfuma con un futuro nuboso. Hace dos días que revuelco mi ático en busca de la libreta azul que tiene "2005" tatuado en la pasta. No la encuentro y es imperativo que lo haga pronto, algo en esa libreta me está causando un escosor insasiable en los ojos, necesito verla de nuevo, ¿dónde demonios está? Ayer encontré tres volúmenes de cuentos "Sueños", "Realidades" y "Pesadillas", uno al lado del otro, todos empolvados y expectantes. Me senté en el suelo, los abrí y hojee uno a uno como a se observa a un tesoro perdido en las inmensidades del mar, con un cuidado extremo. Muchas historias tenían las palabras medio derruidas, todas eran borrador...

One side of the road feels like closing in... will it do so? One of my very old launhgs feels like drowning and I despear... I tend to scream at the wind as it passes by it never answers I'd like to be in the ocean with the water close to my nose up my lips near my ears... with water in my mind.. I have to say I'm not particulary fun not today not even yesterday will I be so tomorrow? I kindda have this thoughts of floading of pushing my mind to the edge this thoughts of nothing... Got a blank mind? I hope I do... I want it I need it I forgot how to forget Need a brake? need a breath? need a life? is it over yet, father? are we there yet, mother? will I ever be there, sis? I won't venture a guess Is useless Isn't it? Recently I'm there... at the edge, I mean closer, closest bored to death drowned in boreness floaded with nothing inanimity... unliving, undeath, underneath... I got a typing machine, this came out of it... randomness of feeling of thought of word of me...

"A new begining again is closer to the end..." The Cardigans I stand at the edge... Is the tallest building I have ever seen, perhaps is not the tallest one but for me is just the right amount. I stand on the roof top, I look at the little street with its little cars and tinny people, ants they say people looks like when seen from this far, but I don't seem to be looking at ants, they look like sand being mixed and turned by a wave, they look uneven and greyish almoust like little shreds of a rain river. This is The Edge, my edge. I have to say that before this day I always afraid of looking down, always frightened by hights, I guess I always thought the higher I stand the stronger the fall. Today I feel no fear at all, just a sense of intense freedom that whispers me from the air. I have began to understand it, you know? This feeling. It has something to do with the walls I placed once infront myself for somesort of protection. Now I'm alone, no walls, just the air t...