Sunday, 23 December 2012

Getting old is not getting wise. (The brain becoming soft silk entangling the wings of the birds
which we have taught to fly.)

It is just an accumulation of failures that have not been corrected
during cell division. (Dear friend, do you remember that wine that we drank when we were 23, and our worst failure was not eating enough before hanging out? Now I'm old. And my blood wants to get out. Mad. I don't know where. I don't know why. She just wants to leave me. Like a girlfriend in her twenties.)

That's it. (Because I studied it in my biology book.)

Genetic mutation. (It sounds hipster. But anyway. It will kill you. Hipster or not.)

The changes are produced randomly and often are harmful. (But the fatal error can be beauty. I promise. I saw my old grandmom painting the walls with tomatoes. Then the house smelled like a fresh salad or spring in the country. My grandmom was getting mad in a very artistic, beautiful mood. Then she cried because the pulp ran out, so I went to buy 3 more tomatoes.)


  1. Leerte con el respeto con el q uno mira y siente y toca las piedras sabias y antiguas d Tartessos…

    O algo así.

    Y saber q esa afirmación no hallará modo d tener sonido.

    Y tal.

    1. Siempre tiene sonido. Espero esa merienda con ganas.