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When the skin breathe in the nostalgia of the time when it is nourished only

soles and vivid, close
doors to the wind of hope

plugs cracks in the cool breeze of joy
in light of the fleeting smile
secret of life.

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pigeon

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.. Picasso
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Everything leads me to extend his eyes, those sores

world to that battlefield in this sky bled

to that cry
dying in the throat, so many struggle


a dead lump
so angry that slows down very slowly ...


the pigeon with the light of hope .

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long list of unfinished work for one reason or another

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watercolor tattoo burrough


another of the many drawings that never ends

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post some stuff here the tattoo, very cornered, and thanks for getting into skinny Ochando this world!

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alpedo
some processes

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drypoint image that I'm hanging

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drypoint etching drypoint

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Hello
few people here I go I've been realziando laburito, one is with the drypoint technique, performed on a sheet 10 cm x 10, rarity, this hecoh two overlapping sheets accurately, in a frame made only Otor scored in the outline, the victim, William Burrough

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Around Curl Girl, Interrupted

Checking out the bodies in the streets, shopping for herself in the mirror, the human perplexity and irony to seek perfection imprecise. The obscene can be a dead body in his lewd impunity.

Miras the newspaper and you turn the pages one by one and you stop by chance in an ad that seems directed at you. Read it quietly, half absently thinking about thousands of things to do in the day. However, the news stops you, propelling you to look in the yellow pages one direction. Suddenly you find yourself immersed in a strange route that leads you to a place.

feel a shiver as if the roads will take you alone. Touch the door but no one leaves. Only the caretaker, to which questions about it, she replied that the police already taken the body. Suddenly records that has the keys, and before you finish talking supplies 50 soles. Not to mention I opened the door and enter . You take a few pictures and you look out the window, which you can see a small phosphorescent pharmacy on duty. You look up and recognize a book The Songs of Maldoror, guess strangely missing the last page and coffee is machado page twenty before opening. Breathe the perfume and notes a couple of books with notes, pen bitten with a photograph and immediately view your index finger that has a slight bulge. You repair a sheet placed on the printer and you're going to take, when the police arrive and asks you to retire. I wonder who it was and they say he had no face.

glimpse Lowering your image in the windows and you can blur some factions between the curvatures of the windows. Others almost equidistant splits your profile is spread over three transparent walls. Look at your old watch and notes that do not work. You keep walking and you reach the corner you find a short branch, however you know that means further. Look at your hands and watch a ring green stone, rip the night feeling on your skin. And hurry up the path to your home. You take a taxi and book you're taken back to the police. Read a banner along the route bodies mass curves space-time . Before entering you see that it is 6 pm, enter your apartment and notes that coffee has spilled over the book you have been reading the night before. You lift it clean and looking desperate last page. Looking the picture on your raincoat, collate your face in the mirror and before you could turn a hissing sound of a discharge.

(I dedicate this text fondly Yurena Guillen, a great writer and friend)

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A piece of the sky

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has not requested the weak tree
been born in the shadow of the tree
strong
are few rays of light
dawn that leaves little

nutrients that land grants
yellowish tips,
anemic pleading for mercy,
not hear the mighty tree
growing and fattening more and more
... until it reaches the mountains,
the seedling, dazed, shaken and wounded
reaped by each branch
with wood to their feet
and clarity in the cup
exclaims, not needed!

I just asked
a piece of the sky.

Underwater Landscape High Resolution

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Nothing is certain everything is changing

Wind is a compelling balance
constant

high it blows is a serene
that barely grazes
the treetops,
when your flight grass grave
While we will tie
ends so nothing is lost, so

luck this is the power of love.

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In memoriam

word will remain in our memory

your absence with the silence
you enjoy the eternal spring,
Laughing at yourself
with the soul in verse
and guitar strum
other spaces will be filled with your essence
,

poet friend.
.
.

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Without clouds break just

Photo
Xanela

is Sunday April skies awake rested without sad

clouds covered the balconies
joy wrapped in scented colors

wishes to forget steps
not feel tired of life their
pain walking trails wrapping flowers in silence
longed slow

hear the panting of the waves
how sweet the sound on the sand
how gentle sway in the breeze sways

temple is my sea shells her blue
banishes fear and grief
its light source of peace and smile.

What Does A Lump On The Neck Mean

Sometimes the night covers the most terrible human being but not ignominy. could sit and ponder on the various varieties of beings that surround the streets and breathe the oxygen of our planet.
was eleven o'clock at night, was heard in the distance the sound of some conversations and the clatter of the cars that ran at speed Aviation Avenue. Trying to cut corners, I found myself lost between certain streets that surrounded parallel to the construction of the Metro. Lima is a city where one can get lost easily but sometimes has that half sullen stubborn and many believe it has eyes corners. Upon reaching the destined address, only managed to knock.

Children are the most defenseless beings in this world and therefore should be protected, however, there are dark winged hawks are flying the missing sites to become part of his treat or disappear. It is not easy to investigate cases involving children and close look at the terror in his eyes or irony in his smile because they were betrayed. RC was found after five days, half naked, her eyes lost with nothing to say. You could ask about the origin of the wind in the afternoon or if the corners were witnesses of his outrage.

Through the window of the taxi, I could hear the rain giving slight tap on my face without touching it, while reviewing my book and joined ends. Three closely spaced cases lately that have the same pattern, abject urge in a universe where there is only malice. When I asked him in front of RC if he liked the dinosaurs and I began to explain about each of them and so I listened for half an hour until he went to sleep. When I got to give my report on the subject, it bothered me for not having taken the necessary data for this report.

Now that I look at my keys and write this story, reminds me of another girl - that was the same - in New York, to which call Brunella. I remember sneaking under the table, huddled in a corner wondering what happened that. While her mother argued with the police, while in the shadows all so clear. Everyone called and to find it was so small, I got together with her under the table and read a story by Hans Wilhelm I'll always love you. Because one should listen in silence when they are ready to mourn.