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How lucky the world is so far away! Venus

not swerve from the yellow line. It is the only safe place. Outside the horrible things happening online: Famine, war, ideologies found, sunk by their own cultures stubbornness. Stay on the yellow line. Road without worries about her that everything will be fine. Until you get out of line, the world is so so far.
That yes, look at the floor, your field of vision must be yellow. Do not ever look forward, not seeing what went before. Fewer still look to the side and discover that the world is so so close that the world is there. That's you.
They want our good. They do not want to suffer needlessly. For those unwilling to cross the line. I know, most can not even enter the line, but it is, the realities are harsh and inevitable (thankfully are long gone). Consolata
well: those who do not pass the yellow trail are exposed to wonderful situations: smoking worms, fungi, Hypertrophic, rabbits insane (yes, well, also a queen cortacabezas). And is free to dream, to think, to expose wing danger and feeling alive. To confront, to try to plug that line, maybe paint it blue, iridescent or a flamboyant, trying to bring the real world to those living in this illusory as long cuendoi wakes up crying, inconsolably. Best
, blue no. I think red is more cheerful. We can also make weird forks, these will add an extra touch of interest. But you do not depart from the yellow line is safe. Segi out there that everything will be disgustingly good. As you go through it, fortunately, the world is so, so far.

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meet

About two years together, we grabbed nostalgia. I wrote the poem, she replied with the drawing.

And every time we look

sky Venus was there for us.

And look who were looking ...

and when we find,

stripped of other lights

handed it to me.

Excuse me, Excuse me,

today I realize

celestial of your message:

you wrote in the sky

your silence of words

(my silences were lost in the silence

is not stupid to throw water into the sea

and is not beautiful, however, speak to ink stars?).

Venus will always be for us,

but sometimes not, but will,

although

God is hidden in the mists of time

(Is not cruel at times the mists of time?).

Your words I get from it (Venus)

and tell me what I already know, what I feel, how she (Venus)

us clothes,

shelters us,

invites us to immerse ourselves in the midst of its symbol

as you cross, wrapped in her robe,

reinvented the sky.

Cronopio and cronopio.

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A cronopio was in love. Very much. Shoes kept in the refrigerator, put oil in the glass and half shaved face. He walked down the street bouncing, and every person she met told her "buenosdíascómoestáusted" and "lindasmañanasdesolbrillante." He wrote poems and recited beautifully frightening to the four winds. Smelled the flowers. Looking forms in the seas of the moon. It was stupefying happy.
Because their love was reciprocated. He saw her four times a day and going to bounce together. Iban along the pedestrian as ping-pong balls and stopped every so often to say "cronopiohermosomividamipimpollo." Then they were going to take milk or, alternatively, three flavors of ice cream (she left the background to it.)

One day cronopio found fame with his friend.
"I'm in love," said cronopio, your best smile stupid.
"There is no love," replied the fame-just a waterfall and phenethylamine steroid hormones in your brain.
the cronopio ran home. Lying on the bed squealed, kicked and cried and sobbed. Do not bounce.
The next day, the cronopio stealthily visited the city library. With patience, began looking for the section A. Continued with the B, C and D (of course, had to get to the last to find what I wanted).
After finding it and sure you've learned well, the cronopio left, happy and excited, library, bouncing.
was allowed to reach "Romanina" Good pizzeria won prestigious, where his friend fame was about to eat, like every Friday, a special with pepper. Faced with fame and triumphantly, the cronopio spat
-special No peppers, only a torrent of rapid reactions in your taste on contact with the mass in question, which is transmitted to the taste center in the brain, where they are decoded. E
immediately added:
"Moreover, the mass in question does not even touch your body, because it prevents the electronic repulsion.
The fame looked at with great bitterness, the special with peppers, bowed his head and left, up (not without paying religiously adding more tip the waiter).
Then the cronopio sat, largely inspired by fumes emanating from the pizza, said "Aaaaaaahhh!" and moved a piece to the empty plate. Then brandished a knife and fork, tied a napkin around his neck and began to eat, with great gusto and relish (but leaving costadito strips of peppers, because he did not like).

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cronopio Defense "Back

always hard to return something was postponed, first because the engine of the project may have been damaged or changed over time and secondly because it is feared to commit, once again the same error.
On the other hand feel the enormous satisfaction of doing that which is wanted, even beyond the context of possible changes. Therefore
head of emotions stirred something I return this blog, hoping that when we release our project responsibilities holiday back to its essence.

Cronopio .

PS: The picture is mine, take a good look. Copyright has not róbenlo.

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Cronopio cronopio?

You do not want to be a fame. Of hope, not to mention, but you do not want to be a fame. One wants to be a cronopio (even without knowing exactly what a cronopio). But you can not just be for only desire. You have cronopio parts but also parts of Fame and hope. And not bad that way. Because even if one loves his watch strainer (or artichoke, is the same) and the unique charm of waiting for its slow passage of hours cenarse leafless for the heart, it's good to remember from time to time that also leaves out eating and other watches are less ephemeral and more accurate. Nor is it good to stop being generous because one of the slime distracts devil and, although one does not want to be famous, one must realize that in times like this, the desire not to be due more to condition cronopio protagonist in a bad quality of fame.
Of course, one also wants to be cronopio for deeper reasons and hidden. You feel an identification with the cronopios and inexplicable sense of belonging, which alone are sufficient, and any further argument will fall on deaf ears. In short, the feeling that one about what is necessary and sufficient condition. You want to be cronopio. You want to be cronopio ... You want to be ... You want ... One ... One ... Two.