Tatuana

The salty smell of the sea and the breeze comforts her bleeding forehead and nose. The effort of holding her tears hurts from the inside of her skull, but crying would only blur the small image she can get from the ocean. The gallows await, but it doesn't really matter right now. Only those blue waters in so many different shades at this time of the fading light. She swings her weight from one foot to the other, softly, getting a rhythm, trying to mimic the movement of a ship at sea. The sound of the waves is the only thing important now; ignoring the noise coming from the other cells.

The dungeon has three cells divided by bars. Two are occupied by men, hers is in the middle, alone, and with the only bench. One of the men cries and curses, lying on the floor all curled and holding his manhood. He had offered it to her through the bars , to "have something sweet for supper before her death." When he screamed because of the 29 teeth that almost amputated him, his crying was heard in all the small fortress of this small forgotten island, even the people from the town heard it, and thought of what kind of new torture had the soldiers devised to avoid people from going the wrong way in life. This made two guards storm in and found the man crawling, and her already on top of her bench, trying to get the rhythm of a rocking boat. They didn't warn her, just went in her cell and plunged her head to the wall. She fainted, because of the hit, for the lack of proper -if any- food at all for months now, for trying to dream of a death at sea.

The last ray of sunlight leaves her with a bittersweet feeling just like when a loved one dies and blood turns cold while holding them. The next time she feels the sun, will be her last. The moon avoids her sight, she knows it, but it would be nice to have her company this last night. All the small points in the dark give her no warmth nor anger. How pointless they seem right now, when she doesn't have a ship in need of direction. The salty smell is now mixed with some sand, just as the first time she felt curious about the stars.

Facing the White Bull

I'm here just sitting, realizing that this so called beast, is actually intimidating for one reason: is so demanding. Beyond violent or petrifying is actually fighting me for it's right to exist. There are many reasons why one needs to display feelings and emotions. In my case is just to get my right to live in peace.

Let me explain, to have the ability to imagine lives, worlds, details, experiences, places, styles, jobs and so forth; and that they have the peculiarity to burst into my head at one moment and at the other be gone or keep growing, all at the same time, is something really sweet, isn't it? Of course not!!! So this untameable beast, becomes an ally to help me let all these characters live and exist. Every time it strikes, it leaves me worn and hurt yet... relieved. I can't say what will happen next, I certainly don't control it. For sure it won't stop, unless, everything else stops for me.

Love is a battlefield??

The Idea here, is quite upsetting to my taste. You see, I had a terrible time understanding that a man had to hunt for a woman, yet they were not supposed to be objectified, which means, they were a catch but not to be treated as one... aha.

Later I had to learn that yes you can kiss... but not too much, you can caress but just so much that flowers were good... up to some point and that no... it had no point in working in making myself better because in the end a woman's biggest dream was to tame and domain over a somewhat wild beast that her man was supposed to be. So the fact of knowing the Bible, trying to act according to the teachings of Buddha, learning and remebering the power of Tao, made no sense since, in the end, this battle for love meant the fact that I had to be a man full of flaws or I would be considered a freak of nature. I am sure to be far from perfect, but I know what my flaws are and how to control and improve them, ON MY OWN. Why is this a problem? So the fact is that one is to be sensitive... only as a show, because if not you're weak. It's not possible to lose, not even once or only in certain things... and God help you if in any possible quarrell against a woman you'd come winning. Oh dear Lord you'd pay for it. More than this you're supposed to know which battles to win, and which ones you should lose so she wins something.

It's always about that, the war of the sexes has shown me something, the one thing I came to learn is that I was still too innocent. That it is in fact a war, in which winner never takes all. In all truth you win, you lose, you keep going... but what puzzles me is... really and honestly what does all of this has to do with love?

For sometime I have been hurt, disappointed, heartbroken, due to having realized that, attraction, relationships and the way humans mate, wel,l just has absolutely nothing to do with love... and it really doesn't matter. To my dearest friends, please understand, it's been this what has sadden me in the opportunities we now all mock, I completely lost my innocence but until a couple years ago... and haven't really got over it... Le maître à tous.

Why ME??

A simple eternal constant, is considering ourselves the product of some divine joke. I've had my share of tragedies, in which there was nothing I could've done to prevent them, nor to make them happen. My worst experiences come from the fact that I didn't make a mistake, I didn't do something wrong, a crisis just rose and I was in the middle of a scary storm, alone, lost and hopeless.

What happened to me can't be compared to what others have suffered, nor what they have overcome. My experience matters only to me, the experience itself can't proof nor diminish anything. What can be somewhat of an example is the fact that basically no matter how big it was, now it's over, due to my own work, to time or to fate itself; crisis have come and go. We don't like them, we don't know what to do with them, yet if we knew, the word problem, crisis or trouble wouldn't exist.

Our mistakes are meant to cause us pain and in such situations we know we are not supposed to complain, if we might be allowed to cry. Dante depicted two things in hell, the fact of a life of mistakes and the fact of not regretting them, no matter the pain, tears came out from the spirits due to the pain that was inflicted to them but not because they saw their lives and had learned a lesson, not even in such excruciating suffering they were not humble enough to acknowledge the fact that they were wrong.

But when there is no mistake from our part and the whips of fate thunder our backs and make us bleed from our hearts to our tears; making a scared child out of the strongest one. The fact is that we never asked to be born either, nor to grow. We never wanted to stop being children nor to feel hunger, heat, exhaustion or pain. All of these experiences as universal as them might seem, have a special meaning to each person. The only way to overcome them, is to accept the challenge, never looking back, you can't expect things to go back to your "golden years". Or even worse to believe that hope is over.

Things always end, nothing is forever, our only resource is to learn, to take the bitter cup and let it go through until it's over. It doesn't matter why, what matters is the fact that you'll learn to overcome it.

Salud, mes amis



Buried at PhotoCasket

Why?

It used to be the only question I wanted to ask. My biggest issue is that I need to know, to understand. Behaviour first, nature later, and God definitely.

There was also the creepy fact of mortality, an idea that destroys my energy, my biggest weakness, and nobody really sees it. Some how that's why I use all these things. I can't accept that I'm nothing else but a whisper in space and time, that the energy that drives, pushes and holds me together will be stopped, unevolved, unnable to become more. I need to believe in something bigger than me, yet also of everything human.

I can't offer my obedience to a man that says he can save my spirit, or teach me how to live rightfuly, when I can see his/her flaws, and they still demand to be followed and respected. NO, plain and simple. It's not that I don't believe, but do you really stop loving someone even if they've done you wrong? You ache, you'd be heartbroken for a while, but later, you'll forgive, learn your lesson, and hopefuly you'll be able to teach them one. If somehow we are similar to God, I believe that is in this sense, and no other. Anger? Revenge? Control? They don't sound divine to me.

I don't want to know why anymore, because in all my questions, I know that I'll understand all the reasons, just after I died.

Salud amigos.

Buried at PhotoCasket this image was taken from photocasket.com