Raquel's Room

Saturday, 26 February 2011

I'll take you with me

It's not getting any better. This conflict between people, ourselves, the distance, the origin of things, the meaning of it all.
When we feel lost we do not search outside, in the world available to us, but we walk backwards, inwards, searching the answers in the roots buried in the land that saw us for the first time. The very same land that encouraged those first steps to be big by themselves, not for purposes that only crazy people dares to establish.
So this is too small for me now. It's like a big ban in the process of shrinking, of asphyxiating me in its recovery from the multi and postmodern.
We went to the other side of the ocean to discover islands of impossible beauty, of Edens let by God to the hands of nature, away from the greed that finally corrupted them and us. If we discovered something in the journey, it was only our unlimited will to enslave and release, to punish and understand, to give and take away, like capricious little gods playing to be creators.
We cross the sky to reach for the stars... to wake up one day to the rhythm of the same tune and view.
We swam rivers of time to get to a goal that always seemed blur and unreachable just to say that we had lived.
Some of us loved till the word lost its meaning and became an array of letters, a concept of materialized bodies killing loneliness under the full moon, moaning like hungry unsatisfied wolves destined to be wild forever.
What is the lesson to be learned? Is there any at all?

This city pulls me down. It has its own gravity, heavier than the law that rules it.
And I love it for it tames me, it reminds me constantly that nothing is established or perpetual, that even inside me, two demons fight to death to conquer my mind.
One reminds me of you, of your charms and the pleasure of your body driving me to the oblivion of myself, to the border where I die to be born at your will.
The other is the force that enters in my soul through the world, through its pain and goodness and all the wisdom kept in ancient books, in the voices of the silence.

This city has a melody of commodities that, like lullabies, swing me in my sleep when I dream away walking its crowded central streets. It also has a memory of resistance for social purposes; a constructive force that keeps me wondering why they want us to believe or to be skeptical. And She wants me to achieve my own conclusions for she has the determination of a woman when it comes to love and hate.

It pulls me towards her, to her conjunction of accents and visions; of craziness and eternal reason trying to impose herself on me, raping my incredulity.
If there ever was any innocence left in me, it's long gone. It's gone with the wind that carries diseases and whispers of hearts that just found cheap love in the alleys of Soho. It's gone with my initial idea of a world of possibilities.

Still, I want to discover without the will to conquer. I wanna walk like the English patient in the body of my lover, carrying rivers of joy where I find drought, planting forests of sensuality where there is no magic.
I want to leave you and set you free from my clumsy attempts to drive you to my bed where impossible is forbiden.
Instead, I'll take you with me, as from this point on, I condemn you to be mine as I will always be yours.

Friday, 25 February 2011

Let's not do it for someone else's sin.

Quisiera alterar por un momento las palabras de Cuaron y decir que "lo importante es no dejar nunca de escribr". Lo importante es hacer uso de la caligrafia, torpe o mencanica, pesada o bella; dejarte llevar de su mano hacia el lugar en el que quieres estar. Aunque el precio de los pisos sea caro y la dieta mediterranea ceda ante el olor a cebolla frita, los pepinillos enanos bagnados en un vinagre demasiado acido y el pescado descolorido que ya no sabe que un dia fue pez por llevar en sus espinas demasiadas horas de congelador.
Dejar las palabras para convertite en que?

You see...Our bodies collapsed like a building crumbling down over the earth that shook it. Our meat did not mould under the law of desire, but crashed against our crystal bones that broke in pieces our souls when we touched each other...
There is no heart involved in the tasteless absence of words. There is nothing when beyond the waiting there is no mouth to beat.
Only your fingers miss the touch they didn't dare to reach. Cause I understood every movement and I anticipated the end. Just the mind is free when the earth enslaves our wings.
And we remain in the platform, tangling our lazes in the eternal rain that makes the feeling grow and turns the hope into a green field of endless beauty.

All those bodies decaying under the half moon that seems a fake smile. All those dreams washed away in a second by some lost bullet that missed the direction into the nothingness and found a will to destroy.
The blood covering the false promises, watering the sonless earth, flooding the singless mouth...At this moment,a woman cries a loss with a cry that will echo in eternity, travelling to the land of cries with those who were before.

Regardless the chaos, the despair, the nonexistence of a better before tomorrow, a book is about to be born; even if they cut the hand, or the tongue or the strenght of the spirit who keeps the truth. The light is equally able to kill, as the dark to reign.
If we must die, let's not do it for someone else's sin, but our own, if there is one.

Saturday, 12 February 2011

To dream for beginners.

The world turned upside down. Apparently, history wasn't written and all danced in the streets to their favourite tune, celebrating the victory in the square of freedom.
Maybe new theories will have to be developed after this, after the triumph of the will and the building of a new system that does not follow the conventional already known. If they demanded the impossible and got it...What is there to fear? Let's shake the temples of knowledge and practise the sermon of rupture and new beginnings.
From the other side, the one in which we contemplate, share opinions and tagg pictures in facebook of people we don't even know that well (or at all) but add to our friend's list, I simply smoked a cigarette and drunk a beer with Pedro while I heard from him that the present and the future are and will be better than the past.
I looked at him wanting to absorb the optimism, the clarividence of seeing myself in a tomorrow where things make more sense than they do now.
A part of me can see that; the other looks back an wonders how all that happened, when the "start to loose control" took me away from the goal, and how did I allow all those voices to spoil my silence.
... All that silly wasted time...
I see the world once again. The past doesn't bother me. I still have no regrets. I said what I wanted to say. And that's all I needed to do. I don't care any longer for the outcome. I don't have the patience to wait.
All I feel is this will to start from where once I left it. All I care now is about the souls I let in and about my journey into the path I choose to follow.

Friday, 11 February 2011

El derecho y el deber de sognar.

Si pestagneamos por un segundo, nos perderemos una revolucion. Nunca un dicho me habia venido tan a mano y es que por todas partes nos rodea el cambio que viene del oriente. Al igual que los Reyes Magos, lo hace cargado de promesas para unos y de mas status quo para otros.
Sin embargo, en esta ocasion, no deberiamos de dejar el futuro en manos de la magia. Bien sea que el pastel lo corten la diplomacia o las ansias de libertad, la cuestion es que muchas cosas, casi todas, estan en nuestras manos. Creer lo contrario es entregarse de lleno y a ojos cerrados a la hipocresia liberal que, segun muchos, ataca el corazon de la Europa actual.
Aunque me pesa reconocerlo, algo de razon llevan porque mira que nos gusta despotricar contra todo sin profundizar en nada. Claro que no voy a pretender yo ahora encontrar el antídoto contra el individualismo y el pasotismo del que al parecer estamos contagiados los abúlicos europeos y venderle a las farmácias la pildora del universalismo humanista. El premio Nobel se me quedaba corto, vaya.
Pero creo que disponemos de las armas necesarias que, utilizadas correctamente, nos serviran para iniciar nuestra propia revolucion. Se empieza con un poco de conciencia social, se le agnade una pizca de ansias por conocer, unos gramos mas de tolerancia y un poquito de facebook para extender la masa. Si usamos el muro con ingenio y alevosia artística, podemos correr la voz para aliarnos en el botellon de la posibilidad, que no es poco.
No os creias que ser una idealista realista es tan facil hoy en dia. Es mucho mas dificil desacostumbrarnos a la paradoja sin cuestionarla. Querer no siempre fue poder tal y como nos lo imaginamos. Los resultados a nuestro esfuerzo suelen ser impredecibles, impensables, absurdos (...) pero el cambio es innegable. Como vamos a conformarnos con el rol de meros expectadores cuando no se cansan de repetirnos que vivimos en una sociedad interactiva?
Quizas el poder resida en creer en lo que realmente nos venden a un costo mucho mas elevado del que les cuesta producirlo. En exigirlo. En actuar conforme a las posibilidades que tenemos a nuestro alcance, aqui y ahora, o en Alemania, paraíso de los Pepes que, en etsa ocasion, se van no solo con la maleta bajo el brazo.
Y si lo producimos y lo valemos...Por que no disfrutar de ello? Asi que dejemos que triunfen las revoluciones y se exilien los dictadires de todo tipo. Tengamos, por una vez, no solo el derecho sino tambien el deber de sonar.

Adios Muchachos....Unlike Gardel's Tango.

Ahi se van nuestors Pepes y Pepas una vez mas, cruzando la frontera en busca de un porvenir en donde puedan desarrollar aquello en lo que invirtieron interminables dias y no pocas neuronas bajo un flexo de justicia. No se les ve cobardes o achicados por el reto. Llevan el mundo intereorizado y, a sus espaldas, la herencia de las tan legitimas ganas de superarse.
No lloran, pero tampoco reina la absoluta alegria en sus miradas al dejar atrás a un pais que los lleno de promesas y orgullo, pero en donde no encuentran espacio o lugar para cultivar los suegnos que su tierra sembro en ellos.
Y es que cuando uno deja atrás un pais en donde reina una democracia en la que unos nadan y otros flotan, pero los menos se ahogan, el futuro es incierto. No es un adios definitivo, como en esos tangos de Gardel. A Espana se vuelve porque tenemos el gran privilegio de encontrar las puertas abiertas como antagno no lo estuvieron para muchos de los que partieron. Pero, a no pocos y no tan inexplicablemente, les quitara el suegno la idea del volver definitivo.
Los que tenemos la gran suerte de emigrar por curiosidad mas que por necesidad, no solo dejamos. Encontrar es parte de la aventura que nos espera al otro lado en donde las cosas, todo sea dicho, no son tan diferentes a como las conociamos. El mundo ya no nos come porque estamos preparados para hincarle el diente y sacarle las ugnas si hace falta.
Europa, ese masivo proyecto político, social y economico en el que nos involucran voluntaria e involuntariamente, nos engulle y nos ofrece, le debemos y nos debe. Mi generacion, explotadora del inter rail, de aquel famoso Europa 15 y del arhiconocido erasmus, ya no solo fantasea o viaja por placer. Se traslada como lo hacen los bienes de consumo para producir y exportar lo mejor que tenemos que, aunque hoy no lo creamos porque tristemente esta de moda y vende mas la palabra crisis, es mucho.
Que pierde Espana? Que mal suena el verbo perder en la actualidad. Mi pais no es ningun moribundo que se desangra mortalmente Yo soy mas partidária de decir que gana. Se enriquece con la vision en perspectiva de los que lo vemos con mas carino, con mas ojo critico, con mas ganas que nunca.
Asi que si Pepe y Pepa se van, dejemoslos marchar sin pesar de corazon y deseemosles suerte en su Odisea. Seamos optimistas y pensemos que su ausencia o su regreso será prometedor. Para ellos y nosotros.