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Images: I Brushes: I Hosts: I, II |
I have a tendency to find twins that were lost in my dreams. Faced with a longing I cannot place, as if the bed I lie in is missing another person. Other times, I enter a room in the hopes that someone is there,only to be greeted with silence. The water in my glass is stagnant and the air opressed with the memories of loss and whispers. Memory after all, is the distant whisper of dreams. I was born with hardly any difficulties, my eyes shut and my hands clenched, I was born asleep- I was conceived whilst I dreamt. However, as time goes by, and the older I get, the more I dread sleep. I live with the fear that I will not sleep well,or heavily enough to escape the loud reminders of reality, but when I do, I never want to wake up. Sleep,the counterfeit of death. Uno de mis sueños debe hacer una película que afecte la vida de una persona. La persona que se sienta en la fila delantera que masca negligentemente en sus palomitas, pensando de cómo la vida injusta ha estado a él. Él mira alrededor de él, cambiando de puesto noisely en su juego de la enfermo-guarnicio'n, echando un vistazo distraídamente los pares y el individuo ocasional. Entonces él da vuelta detrás y hace frente a la pantalla. Él no sabe qué esperar, o quiénes es el director, o qué agrio nuevo está actuando en él. Todo lo que él sabe es que él desea comer un emparedado del pavo esta noche. Repentinamente, las luces amortiguan y en el interino entre el comienzo y el final, ha habido una revolución silenciosa silenciosa de change.A en este hombre y él camina del cine. Agarrando su cartera él no tiene su emparedado del pavo y el día siguiente, él no va de nuevo a trabajo. La historia es ampliable pero eso es lo que deseo alcanzar. Deseo ser un revolutionist silencioso, incorporando y dejando los alcoholes de la gente en una respiración, pero dejando una impresión secundaria-concious en ellos para la vida. When i dream, I also dream of living in paris. Falling in love with a beautifully cool parisian boy, with pink lips and full hair and being happy. We will be in love and ride on his motorbike visiting the cinemateque, watching greta garbo and chain smoking. At night, we will walk the streets of some rue de la something and we will look ethreal. Talking late at night about movies,images,foods,smells,people,life before heading off to a private party of close friends,filling the night air with love and romance. This boy will be called Theo for now and locked in my memory, he's untouchable. Our apartment will have a small balcony with lush flowers bending over the green railings like dancers intoxicated with wine. Billie Holiday or Frank Sinatra will croon when we sleep and mc solaar will play in the day. Everyday and night will be beautiful. Like the dream before, this story is an open-ended one as well. I don't know if our lives will be like this forever, or even if Theo does exist somewhere in my destiny. But like all things, we can only hope. One dream of mine,which might be more feasible than a theo or the former,would be to take a road trip across spain or mexico. A road trip filled with acid colours, smoke and people. Where we hail queens who speak in different tongues, march to the beats of an unknown drum, consume the foreign passions of a city yet to be explored.And all this will be done in a beat up convertible or bus and most of the time we'll be naked. Soaking up the warmer sun of a more golden place.My hair will be bleached out by the sea, tangled in our wreckless journeys, but it would look the best it has ever been. We'd stay in dirty motel rooms, clean by chance, and listen to the pulses of each other's hearts,pounding with exhileration at the sudden overload of sights and sounds.Like we had been one of the few who made it to Atlantis and back.Moonlight swims will be an everyday affair and on some nights,too tired from our swims, we'll spend our nights lying on the warm sand and fall asleep there. Isn't it always the same. We always want to be anywhere but where we are at the present. Feeling restless all the time we escape, but i like it, afterall, even though i hardly admit it, i was born a dreamer. |
