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I, too, am legend. One year

fell the other night, and by chance, in a film already begun, and the truth is that I learned mucho.No know how I dare to write this post with so little information about it.
addition, the fact Garnish with a bit of zapping, and with that I managed to entirely have to re-invent the plot.

You stand alone on the planet with a dog. And all because I believe that a virus causes your peers to become in beings who want to make you all costa.No puñeta know if suck your blood, eat or sorberte the brain, the fact is that after dark, just want to be with your life. We could say that suffer from an incurable disease called envidiosis. Envy that you can dawn, come and go in the sun, and nutrients normally. Envy you live, you've survived.
In one of his attacks, I note with amazement, and with one eye closed, (broadcast the movies on TV a few hours ...) that your dog is attacked by one of these beings.
The hero gets the dog to release her murderer, and when at home, try to heal, embrace it and make sure the dog is going to be (in seconds! In one of these al.)
have to kill him, before the new being who occupies the body of the dog, try to attack him. Strangles him with his own hands. Impresionante.De
really.
The stage has three parts, one find that your only companion, has contaminado.Dos decide to remove it now. Three run.
confess I succumbed at the end of the film, and I have no idea how it ends.
Curiosity will investigate, but in any case, it would seem appropriate to have the final.
The parallels to the loneliness, struggle, survival, and near me seem easy. I go further: the hope of finding a solution when all the facts, the facts are contrary. The need to communicate, to hear a hello, how are you?. To share, to be socially.

I see myself on many occasions as the protagonist. And that, I first generated a superiority complex. The others are "sick" and I can still look at the sun. I can find a way out for me and for them. I view that inferiority complex heroine, but on the other hand, if what I see and live, the perception I have, is so gray, so sick ... and I think I can give color ...

Actually, I would not be a legend.

"Life is simple, because the struggle is simple. The good fighter but does not give back. It bends, but does not quit. If you can not get up before him, deviates and goes further. If shortness of breath, rest and wait. If it is knocked out, encourages his brothers with the word and presence. And even when everything seems to crumble before him, despair never affect you. "
Pierre de Coubertin.

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sense.

toast that we have a year with a lot of sense.
Because we feel the details, the little things, gestures, roces.Porque us deep emotions. Because laugh and cry.
Because we live, in short.
Because our human side, more humble, to surface and allow confessions, but they are the last minute.
Because we ourselves, and we dare. One year
sense ... with a lot of sense.



CHIN, CHIN!
my heartfelt kiss.
Happy New Year.

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I want a bowl.


I want a bowl. I will serve to collect water, drink and wash, even to transport these days of cold snow, I can use it to push the ice piles up at my door, or climb it, get around the puddles. With it, I can take drugs, carry the babies, cooking, and sleeping dentro.Todo that.
I can under its belly covered with heavy rains, even if the level gets too high the river, I can use the barge and stretching the knees, cross over I'll still lado.Allí a basin.
If I feel tired, I will return and sit on your belly, breathe deep, I'll take fuerezas feeling full of my bowl.
All resilient (http://www.pilarjerico.com/resilientes) that boasts, has a basin, and if I think you just have to remember those trips, those pictures, those images viste.Toda life that emerges from TV, women, men and children carrying a bowl. In these neighborhoods, in these countries, in those places ... all these, carry one, should be keeping a miracle in itself, and that so little is accomplished that mucho.Sobrevivir and be happy. A great combination based on a pan.
I want a bowl. Gather fruit, I will bear my clothes will protect me from the bullets.
I want a bowl. Clearly, if these are high quality ... I need it in this society, but "society" is if we deal basins sucia.Tal time instead of points for moving, if we pull on one with the life insurance and not a pressure cooker, or if the window overlook Loewe showcase this Christmas ...
I want a bowl.
I want.
And possibly, but not know it, you, too.

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The bird wing colors. Matilde

start
As many other stories, it begins with something that "I have a friend who bought a bird with colorful wings. Proud of his find, buy or invest, looked empty your wallet, and smiled." impressive, "he said." This will give color to my life
At home, put him into his new cage. The bug, happy, jumping from one club to another and from one gate to another. peeping their new environment glance. whistling and shaking his head as if humans say "maybe".
That was his name taken: Maybe.
may give perfectly good morning, and painted the sunrise and stay with their plumage, their movement and vitality. The joy that emanates from a caged slut still do not know when it is.

Moved My friend said, "I'll let it fly and hover around here. You'll feel good, continue happy, and I'll enjoy watching it, watching."
He spent some time walking around the living room, kitchen and bedroom. Jumping from one side to another, leaving behind a trail of color.
The owner was pleasantly surprised to see that perhaps he returned to his cage, went in and out, over and over, like a beautiful dance, or ritual in which he showed that he knew fully their territory, and its mission.

Valiente, opened the window and the bird perched on the railing of the balcony and rose out, flew off to the shoulder of a neighbor who was walking in the park across the street. And the shoulder to a branch, on a shelf, and from the balcony.
He was my friend, there, stiff, for a while watching the scene. But suddenly he began to feel that the more fluttering, the more you away ... but no fear was in return. Certainly
a while the animal returned to its cage and rested quietly in his trough. He kept waving his 'maybe' as a greeting.
My friend looked at him seriously, and decided to close the door, still not knowing what really caged.
fear now felt different. Fear not watch it fly. And excusó pensando "Es posible que otros tambien lo consideren atractivo y pretendan quedarselo. Es probable que olvide su pertenencia, su camino de vuelta.... Cabe la hipotesis de que al final se agote de sus andaduras, y luego no quiera volar de regreso a la casa, con lo cual yo perdería su precioso vuelo, su rastro multicolor", se justificó.Pero lo cierto, es que dentro de la jaula tambien lo perdía. Ya no había aleteo multicolor.
Tal vez siguió saltando encerrado en su jaula, un día y otro,y otro tambien, hasta que sus plumas de colores empezaron a caer, y fueron mudadas por unas blancas y grisáceas. Tambien dejó de menear la cabeza, de dar los buenos días...ahora, sólo parecía decir adios.
And he lived and lived in the cage, without gloss or color, receiving his food, his attention, all the while continuing to be a caged bird leaving behind one bird, the color of the wings.

how about you, what color have feathers?

pd. the image is Mingote.