Highway to Moquegua

seen in a dream

seen in a dream

 

Yesterday I had a dream: I was travelling and we (suddenly my travel was a shared travel) arrived to a hotel room, there were three girls in the bed to us the three travelers. Sadly the girls found me boring so they opted to ignore me. I think in the freedom to choose with whom we are going to be so I decided to do other things. In the end, meanwhile the other two partners and the girls were in the bed talking naked, one of the girls said me in an angry tone that I had several cameras. I saw the table and to my shame I had three cameras…

So my conclusion is that I’ve to invert more in women than cameras, hahaha, just kidding. In the real life I travel alone, if I meet girls it’s also alone because I prefer that way. And I use just a digital camera and twice in the year a film camera, oh, I forget the cell phone camera. But the dream is dead right: I am dedicating so much time to a hobby as photography and life has more things to discover. So I’m going to post other things as tales, essays, reviews, etcetera.

Today mi post is about the highway to Moquegua seen from the window of a bus. I enjoyed taking the images and I hope you can find one of your joy anonymous reader ;-)

tres

tres

deja-vu metallic

Déjà vu (metallic)

huellas

huellas

a shadow passes

a shadow passes

Kamanchaca

Camanchaca is the word we use in the south of Peru to refer to the sea fog. I suppose it’s a Spanish corruption from the original word, I understand from the aymara word Kamanchaca, I don’t care, it’s a bigger significance that saying just sea fog. It carries thousands of years of maritime history.

When the son of an Inca (that later was himself an Inca but you have to remember that to be emperor in the Inca Empire it wasn’t enough to have the blood but also the chosen had to be capable and the best leader) travelled to the Antarctic, or perhaps to another travel to the Polynesia, it’s said that probably he took the ships from this place because in the stories there is mention to the phenomenon of the camanchaca.

Enough of history, let’s go to the pics :P

sol

Sol

a highway to sun

a highway to sun

poetic quest

Poetic Quest

As fire in a forest

DSC09715v1-XL

 

I dreamt about her some time ago, actually three or four years ago. Probably a dream not very remarkable. But she was in there (my image of her really) so it is a haunting dream.

I was the star in a TV show for children, I had a big costume in the form of Homer Simpson and I had to dance and sing in a colorful stage. I dislike so much to dance, I dislike much more to (try to) sing, and the disguises make me feel a bit ashamed, and when child I preferred to see the cartoons more that the tv shows. But I was a professional so I had to do everything I was asked with the heart. Nevertheless the producers wanted more rating so they hired a new co-star to the show. Who was she/he? I didn’t know, and as a professional I didn’t care because I had to work with anything they say. So I was dancing with people disguised of trees and flowers in the stage that was like a garden in the park. So the voice-over starts to talk while we are dancing, the new star is right there as a surprise to the public. There is a lady near me but I cannot see her because I can’t break the dance, because you know, that wouldn’t be professional… The male voice-over says she is from Denmark and I think that the producer have to be mad to bring here a girl from far away, a land so distant, I wonder if the rating has dropped so low. Thus in middle of the dance I permit myself a bit unprofessional glance, just half a second to see her without breaking the choreography. And it is the end, she is dressed in a soft and silky black dress, she is black haired and has a pretty smile and intense eyes. Is in that half a second that I understand that she has a beauty as hadn’t ever seen before in this country, exotism from a far away land.

That was a dream that I remember not because of even a second but for barely half a second. In the shared reality beyond the dream for those days we weren’t talking. I wasn’t a gentleman and came late to see her one day. She was very angry and I understood that I had did a lot of things wrong so my friendship with her was ruined. Two years later I called her and we talked a bit, she ask me to go out for a coffee but I knew that she was just polite and kind, and I polite and invariably said yes. I hope we don’t see anymore, it’s probable that she could give me a hug, but also is probable that she feels uncomfortable, the latter is enough reason to avoid and save her that issue. I couldn’t say I fell in love with her, or perhaps I didn’t allow it, she was from a reality totally different to my life, and I had always that idea that we were deeply incompatibles, assuming she would be able to accept me perhaps she wouldn’t be happy and my remembrance of her would be one not very happy as it is now.

Anyway I think that dream gave me the words I cannot find, that to me she’s a beauty beyond everything I could think possible.

PD: The title is a reference to a line from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman; the story with Milo Manara.

Geometry of hell

Geometry

I dreamed that we were on the distant fields; five people in a yellow bus, we had some kind of friendship or even relatedness. In silence we were letting behind the city (a human order) for something different, the fields without farmers were the threshold. The bus crossed it finally towards the darkness like a person fall asleep almost without notice it. We saw that a person (one of us?) has been, alive, disincorparted around the body of the bus. We saw it as something provided because we knew we were in hell, or at least was provided that those things were what one had to expect from hell.

The geography was populated for demons. They were not dedicated to punishments but to play like puppet masters with anything they found in that visceral land; a place where they could do whatever they wanted without meaning nor purpose; or no one we, as human beings, could infere.

We felt persecuted, there was a girl in the group and I think we tried to protect her. We delve in the hell, into its heart, and we sensed that if we were closer to its core we could be safer. The yellow bus was in the past, we walked and saw a supermarket, which was a representation of an ascending order in the hell, and at that point we knew for sure that we would be protected because Satan did not allow chaos or disorder in their presence. To be accepted we bought some banal things with a few and little coins, the demons there, driven for their inner fear, were silent and even diligent. We got closer to the center and Lucifer was not a person but a spherical beam of white light. He (I thought it as a “he”) did not inspire neither fear, admiration nor devotion, simply we knew we were in the presence of an angel.

End of dream. Morning of November 28, 2013. I don’t believe in hell, and that day my brother’s lil white cat died, that was a hell.