Is this a tree? Probably one in Lilliput ; ) It’s a little bush in the vast nature.
Try to touch with your right hand your right shoulder… Ok? Now try to touch your right elbow. Not so easy I guess, right? This is a way to explain the paradox of closeness: the closer to us the harder we have to understand it. Is easier to know a stranger than a friend; easier a friend than a loved one; less hard a loved one than yourself. We all are a mystery…
A stranger is gazing you in the mirror.
Toca tu hombro derecho con tu mano derecha… ¿Listo? Ahora intenta a tocar la zona del codo. Esta vez no fue tan fácil, ¿verdad? Es una manera de explicar la paradoja de la cercanía: mientras más cerca esté algo de uno más difícil es para nosotros de entenderlo. Es más fácil intuir a un extraño que a un amigo; más fácil un amigo que a nuestro ser amado; menos difícil al ser amado que a ti mismo. Todos somos un misterio…
Un extraño te devuelve la mirada en el espejo.
Before the fury of the night…
It’s in Imata at 3930 meters of altitude (12 893 ft). The night has claws of ice biting your flesh, if you know the nature and respect it then you know that you have to walk faster before the darkness…
But also there is a poetic beauty in crossing the highlands in the dark knowing that every step is a fight to live.
The color version of this photograph was one of the first one I published in WordPress, a place near Imata, a place that was just for me because it’s outside the touristic places and at 4185 meters above the sea level (13 730 feet) there aren’t so many people going to there.
In such places you can feel a peace in part beautiful and in part lethal, something similar to climb without equipment I guess, you’re not seeing the nature but also fighting to don’t be surpassed by it (in this case the loneliness in the cold of the season)
A little kiss can be something more destructive than an explosion and last more than even friendships. A soft end for long conversations in the complicity of a secret.
The light in your eyes says another name and suddenly bright thoughts left transmuted in ashes of a party day of a far yesterday. This night is a navigating pain in the memory of your eyes shining like beautiful moons sculpted in ice. What is this time that ends in nothing?; What is this circle that never closes for?
I don’t want to find out why I care about the light in your eyes.
And a blue eye.
(From Imata’s highway between Juliaca and Arequipa cities)
Hidden, I could just have one chance to get one star alive.