The night of the human moths

Tears in fire

Tears in fire TTTnTTT

There are a race of hunters interested in human beings, to chase them they take advantage of the fascination for light of our species. Hidden I got to see their work.

Placing the bait
Elemental castles

elemental castles

They prepare their traps at day, with lines they erect temporal structures.

Cubes, lines and a star of six points

cubes, lines and a star of six points

Song of fire

And at night they fire them, to gather and harvest the human moths.

Fury in Fire

fury in fire

I can barely bear the vision of the light… so haunting, so spectacular…

Electrical garden

electrical garden

A red flower that exists for around a heartbeat to vanish into the black without stars.

Two stars

two stars


blooming flower

A burning temple

a burning temple

Heart of the night

heart of the night

Rock star

rock star

Lord of Smoke

lord of smoke



"Welcome to hell" said the devil

“welcome to hell” said the devil

Grand Finale

grand finale

End of the night

And the lights starts to vanish. The hunters are going to harvest the mesmerized crowd.

Magic world, ask a wish

magic world, make a wish

First line of defense

first line of defense

I think this place is like the ones seen in dreams… perhaps is one of those intermediate zones, where dream blends with reality; suddenly Sir Francis Drake could appear there to rest in middle of his way to Panama, and we would discuss about the coincidence to have the same name (I’m not Francisco but Francis) and after that he would return to his ship in the past (or present) and I would walk to the city in the present (or future)…

The Humboldt stream brings water  from the Antarctic sea, I’d like to think that that’s the reason the ocean there has those fantastic colors.


Also I love that the rock seems an open mouth like this “:v” lol

Paolo et Francesa – escape from hell

Paolo et Francesca - scape from hell

Paolo and Francesca find a hole in the hell. They discover inside a tranquil blue sky and a colorful place to start again their love: hopefully they escape.

They fly a colorful city dreaming to touch each other with their wings. The colors start to melt inside the rotten shells, the sky burns and the shadows change their shapes into laughing beasts ripping Francesca with lupine tusks.

Paolo wakes up. He sees in silence the familiar whirlwind, there is no Francesca in it. He is alone.

But… that’s not my bike!

but that's not my bike

I think the traditional homes in the Swiss or Polish countryside are built with wood, but in our countryside they are made with adobe so when I used to read classic tales the wolf in my imagination was hidden in an adobe house.

I remembered that when I was walking this place at the borders of Juliaca city, the bicycle made me think in a modern wolf (except we haven’t wolves so he would be a fox) with granny clothes trying to don’t sleep while waiting for a young lady that promised to be there with a scarlet dress and matching lingerie.

Then the hunter came a day earlier because the fields were empty of tarucas (our native deers) First he doesn’t know why he feels an unfamiliar sensation so his instincts of hunter starts to drive him… scans in silence the scene until he notices with surprise the bike, not his bike, lying against a window, wondering if there is a tale inside and what if that tale already finished…



When child I met some people, not human but apparently humans. They could walk in our world but they sometimes were so old, or so little, never completely human, to my despair nobody else seemed to have answers because when I pointed to them they had already vanished. Then I tried to talk to them… they never spoke. I understood that they lived among us but never with us.

So many years later I saw them but not so much really, internet, work and daily life distract the mind, but they are here. Today the rain and the work weight like an elephant on my shoulders. I sleep. I don’t want to sleep so much and I start to dream that I’m waking up, but there’re noises, An open door? I cannot move, suddenly at both sides of my bed there are three little non-humans, staring, the damned never speak, never, they just see and in my revenge I decide to gaze back into them, because we also have to be strange to them with the shape of our teeth, nails, brown skin and big eyes. I dream that I wake up from that nightmare, rings the phone (Who uses a phone these days?) and a distant voice yell several times “Who is it?!, Who is it?!…” I ask him if he can hear me, but he just repeat his question as a litany. Then I understand that the voice is not human, it’s closer but not enough, usually I’d be in silence to discover more clues but I know I’m in danger, they never speak and I can feel if they discover my name, if I say my name, they’re going to have a power on me. I hang up the phone right away. I wake up, again.

Now I know I’m awake. I can’t get a sense of those dreams. The house is dark like in those times when the country was in war and we only had candles. Then I heard it, boxes falling, the telephone ringing (Who uses a phone these days?), I know they are closer and they’re not going to speak. I’ve no fury nor fear, but I know that nobody, human or not, is going to make decisions for me, I’m ready to fight them, it would be better for them to speak. This time is not going to be a third awakening.

Red biking hood entering the wood

Red biking hood entering the wood

A-yo fellas. Once upon a time a momma gave to her lil girl a bike and a red hood so she was known by her hommies in da hood as the “lil red bikin’ hood” An afternoon her momma said her “Do u wanna take dis stuff 2 ur gramma sweetie?, be easy”, lil hood replied “yessir, I’m ’bout it” so she took her bike and let da hood to enterin’ da dark wood.

Excerpt from Grimm Bros’ in da house Tales ;-)

Net trap set by a memories hunter

Net trap set by a memories hunter

(From the diary of unnamed Hunter)

“Telepathy was lost when their ancestors developed oral language; future prediction when they buried and traded dreams for organized religions and ideologies, too. But those just were signals, oppose to centuries common beliefs, that civilization advances had masked an underlying collective mind. Sadly for them time and demographic growth proved that human race had just hide their true nature inside with disguises and hopes.

“Journalist History marks the breakdown of the collective mind with the increasing numbers on population able to sleep but unable to dream; shortly after the decreasing of individuals able of artistic creations and scientific thought. One generation later humanity had turned to the current mechanical race that live following basic conventions guided by the artificial minds that replaced computers, smartphones and every machine supposed to make the life easier, miniaturized into a tattoo shaped as a circle. The human answer was technology that saved and condemned the human race, at the cost to convert a soulless body into a walking corpse.

“The nature answer was our kin. Every one of us disconnected from the collective mind (now diffuse into billions and billions of beings) Some critic said that eradicating a big part that makes human beings in fact… humans, turn us into an inhuman race. We are free to dream and to produce a life with the meaning we chose. But the collective mind had knowledge from millions of years, we have to learn again the fear to spiders, to suspect the idea of a be part of a kind (thought by them as divinity), to experience the shared dream at nights that originated the fictional idea about coincidences, but were in fact secret dates and desires.

“To survive we are living our early Paleolithic stage of gatherers, reapers and hunters, toward our own civilization. Building our path predating the rags of memories from the collective human mind, squeezing the last drops from them. The last fishes from a dying sea. A humanity perhaps already lost.

“Sometimes I feel a rather uncomfortable feeling about humanity, but immediately I remember that I hunted that feeling some years ago from one human city, and that I ate it adding it to my consciousness. I had to choose approximately three thousand human subjects to (the next lines were omitted because its graphic and violent language). That makes me more human?

“The next stage is to synthetize the harvest for consume of every hunter.”