unicidades

It becomes morning in the silent house where the woman tastes the bitterness of life. She gets up naked and cold much earlier than she has to. She can't sleep. So many thoughts screaming in her. She reflects upon the power of genetics when she sees her legs in the mirror and the weakness of her soul. She wonders: what to do next? Life has never seemed so oblivious before. She didn't rest after all. Hours and hours in bed and her thoughts kept her awake. Feeble body, creative mind. Illusions pouring from her. She usually comes up with plans she soon forgets. She still waiting for that small piece of perfection everyone gets. Firework love. Stability. Resilience. The right amount of intelligence. The right words coming out of her mouth. The non-revelatory questions. Health. But it seems like that little corner just didn't happen in the life she was given. She sees life from far away. Hidden in the faces of strangers who seem so much happier and alive. Alive in the more mund...

Touch Me Photo By Michelle Murphy He took me to a place that was sunny and quiet. A place where flowers disappeared under the absence of sunlight and lizards walked freely from pond to pond, from tree to tree. The place was cozy, hidden, and magical. At night and by the water, the stars magnificently painted a different sky than the morning and afternoon skies. At night, the air was somewhat warm and sweet. At night, we hid. We let our bodies belong to each other and to the night itself. We slept in a hammock under a sheltering sky that was more a witness than a background. The hammock was comfortable and spacious enough to bring us peace and perfect sleep. The night was calm and fragrant and offered us a break from the life in the city. We could just be in that hammock. We didn't have to be anywhere else. We were free. For a while.  During the day, our routine was a routine of lov(e)-ing. Loving and loving. Desperate search to get closer and close...

Octopus Traps in Japan The typical presentation of takotsubo cardiomyopathy is a sudden onset of  congestive heart failure  associated with  ECG  changes mimicking a  myocardial infarction  of the  anterior wall . During the course of evaluation of the patient, a bulging out of the left ventricular apex with a hypercontractile base of the left ventricle is often noted. It is the hallmark bulging out of the apex of the heart with preserved function of the base that earned the syndrome its name "tako tsubo", or octopus pot in  Japan , where it was first described. [5] I often wonder about love.  What love really means. How much power does it have. For a long time it has been my favorite word. Can really one die of a broken heart? Apparently, yes. I wonder why the Japanese named the syndrome after an octopus pot. Was it because a broken heart resembles the pot? Merely? Or was it because the heart feels that way? The heart feels...

There's so much truth in this picture. As there was truth in our dancing and in the competition we've been to. And I have been so thirsty to know the truth.

Image by Wangechi Mutu Why I hurt By Janine Rodrigues I hurt because to be alive equals suffering. I hurt colorfully. But I still hurt. It hurts to see injustices. It hurts not to be able to help. I hurt because I am alone. We are all alone. Each journey is lonely. 

I went to compete in San Francisco a month ago. Life is so different than. I lack focus. Artistic focus. I am afraid that if I leave it all out, it will be impossible to go back. I have to make time to write, to live and to love.

France it is: http://www.aixtangofestival.com/en/