• Prose

    You look beautifully lost

    You look beautifully lost, with headphones in your ears and hands in your pockets, so nothing disturbs you. Restless hair, eyes closed as you look at the world, the one in you, the one forbidden to the one outside. Without a smartphone that certainly won’t make you smarter, the mute off on the phone, you don’t want any distractions. You walk past me as I sit on the sidewalk. I’m smiling, but you don’t notice it, you’re lost, beautifully lost. While looking at you, I’m imagining what you might be thinking at that moment. What’s the problem? What bothers you? Maybe you’re thinking about someone that hurt you, or perhaps…

  • Poetry

    Split up before and after our impulses

    In desperation, we lie, we deceive sensibilities, we’re losing fairly, bluffing only with the existence in the darkness that surrounds us, as if it swallows us with the eyes with a scalpel which hangs on the lower eyelids. The space between us could be one room, one continent, which yawns, split up before and after our impulses to fill the straits with the glass mosaic, where infinity would be dissolved, and nothing below us or above us exist, apart from the feeling of falling, without end, in a void without stars that would illuminate the spider web in which you and I hold on for a sigh or two. It’s…