Sometimes life feels dark… and sad. Today I knew a dear person suffered an attack, and nobody wanted to help. I know life can be better but despair seems so deep.
Spanish is a foreign language from my perspective. The language I should speak is Aymara. Nonetheless Spanish is, alas, the only language we can use to aspire to a higher education. So I don’t feel attached to it, when kid I always won the contests about redacting compositions but, as it happens me with English too, I am not sure why the reader could find it nice composed. I just joint words like a kind of smith trying to give it a rhythm. In English I like so much the alliteration, I dunno, I think in sumthin’ like:
In Wotan’s world, worthy words weaving with wisdom; Hela’s blending a blind blade, an unknown anathema in her heart hardened by despair.
And well, that’s the way I think in languages, of course it’s not perfect. Without understanding completely them but judging their sounds I think Quechua is the perfect language to say words of honey; Aymara to speak the truth; French the language of feminine sensuality (but it sounds soft in men); European Spanish the dialect of masculine sensuality (but it sounds harsh in women); Argentinian Spanish the dialect of elegance, almost like a tango; German the language to read ideas; English to sing and Italian to read the Divine Comedy.
The photograph is part of a long project I’m doing and perhaps it’s going to take a year more. I want to write in Italian a series of photographs inspired in, with Borges’ complete works, my favorite book. Dante’s Divine Comedy.Westerners in my country read it as a book of horror, attracted by the landscapes of hell. I’m not westerner so I read it as a book of a marvelous exploration to a world never seen before. To me is fantastic and I read it since I was eight years old. I love this book so much. The maternal surname and gray-green eyes of my grandfather indicate that perhaps we’ve something of Italians but if that happened there is nothing in our language or culture that survived. I’m sure an Italian would read it quite differently to the way I read it. Time will tell.
In the middle of my way from Lagunillas lagoon to the red rocks near Santa Lucía city I saw this dog, I don’t remember well but I think it was a she. Tired, walking the fields at more of 4100 m of altitude (13 500 ft) exposed to cold, or perhaps is from one restaurant because usually dogs in the countryside stay in the properties and at night they are fiery, reason why I had to walk quickly before the end of the day.
She walked along me perhaps a three hundred meters. Sadly I hadn’t meat or any food for me not for her, sometimes it seems I couldn’t help nobody. Anyway, I was more afraid that she could waste her energies walking long distances but suddenly there were some barks. Dogs from a private property was closing to us, but really to her, I crossed to the other side of the highway but she was still there. With that expression of alarm. The dogs weren’t further the limits and she came back to the nothing.
In the end usually I think that way about some close people. I wonder if there is somebody taking care of they, watching if they have a plate of food, or caring to note if they have a disease. Sometimes it’s easy to don’t see that probably they’re alone in a tough world, barely resisting.
Next time I’ll go to the wild I’m going to bring some bags to pick up some garbage and a bit of food to share with them. Fortunately for us humans it’s a bit more easier, I know how to survive there, where to get water and which plants to eat. It’s quite healthy for us.
I think it’s perhaps a stray dog, but who knows, it could be an old dog used as guardian or something. In Peru the cities are full of stray dogs, if some alien from another solar system would came then would think that cities are built for both dogs and humans, but it would need a study to determinate which specie is more intelligent :P
Like a vagabond spirit in a lonely sea of concrete.