Yellow flowers in movement in a field of still white butterflies.
motion
zig zag of a valley in middle of a dream
In dreams I am traveling places I can barely remember. I know I will be in that place again, but this time while awake.
Lost in blue
I used to wonder if I could travel the life knowing everything, not just to be the passenger of an evanescent dream.
The truth is we are shoot like an arrow towards an almost set destiny and destination without neither hideouts nor stops.
Maybe would be better just to close the eyes and just to dream and just to forget we crossed the mirage of an infinite turquoise.
Towards the end of the solitary flight the only companion is a flickering shadow, fragile and ignorant of its own irreality.
Motion
A machine leaving a mark of noise in a peacefukl valley in Bolivia.
Mythology of Apus
This starving darkness devouring my whole life
my lady has forgotten me
in a grey universe.
.
Long ago disappeared the last star.
A language of pain is this night
made with a black veil.
.
I feel it fall, the point beyond the end
where only an old inertia remains.
And my Apus so far away.
.
In this kingdom the pleasures are ashes
and happiness is a place in the past.
Why does exist a reality like this?
.
In loveless lands a dragon prefers to sleep,
there is no reason for him to fly
anymore these empty skies
.
I would love to be again a rock against the rain
of a primitive world before men had voice.
But I’m just a forgotten boy.
.
I’m not even the shadow of a memory to my lady
and the night is time leaving a void inside
Why are my Apus so far away?
.
End.
.
(Apus are sacred hills in the Andean highlands of what once was the Inca Empire and the empires before; they are the origin or producers of mankind, in this way to see the world there is no need of a god or gods creators of humanity)
At the end of the highway a black night
sleeping town
I’m leaving this world in search of a place with you. Perhaps one in this shared dream that we call reality, perhaps one in this personal dream that we call memory. I’m not in this muted world anyway, anymore.
Destiny: sunset
A final melody composed with the frozen drops of a forgotten rain made of your mementos. This road seems to have only one direction and just one end. A voracious time doesn’t forgive and turns the hours in months and the months in dust.
always two sides
An infinite horizon says that if you walk someday you’re going to find the one you are looking for, but it doesn’t say you if at the end of the road the one she is waiting for is you.
highway blaze
Exhausting my mornings building vast prophecies, desires to have a night illuminated by your star. My eyes looking up farther and farther away a proof of you; unable to fathom the mirage of lights in this cruelty road.
signals with sleepy eyes
Perhaps I should just close my eyes, but there is no sense: inside there is a river and its stream has the music of your laugh and its surface shaped with countless versions of the blaze in your eyes.
wind from a dream
A world made illusion. A world made of undefined shapes. A silhouette that yell one last time a lie, “I don’t care” replies a river inside.
At the end there is only a lonely night.
(I shot the images in the Peruvian side of the highway around the lake Titicaca while traveling from a trip to Bolivia)
Birds in the sky sailing the lake
This was the view of lake Titicaca from the highway. The clouds in the horizon seemed like ducks. The lake has an aura of ancient mystery outside Puno bay, where the contamination is a hammer that hit it disfiguring the face of the old lady.
Black castle
Today I read a quote from the House tv series, he was saying, If I’m not wrong around the time he had hallucinations, in a low and slow tone: “I’m fine, I’m just not happy” And I was thinking that that could represent very well these days. Well, the life is not a series of episodes, it has not endings or beginnings, except the ones we want to give it to our own lives. It just flows and continue across us.
The photograph is from a little bus I took in the frontier to Bolivia toward my home in Juliaca. The blue hour in the green fields of the highlands. The shores of lake Titicaca are closer.
A landscape disappearing in colors of a half forgotten dream.
Crossing the joyful meadow in the land at the end of twilight
In our cities in the Andean Plateau is traditional to celebrate Qashwa or beginning of harvest (celebrated with the carnival) first in the big cities and finally in the little ones and towns. So the big cities get bigger and when it’s turn of the smaller suddenly the big cities get empty.
Colors are quite important as signal of party so the cities and meadows explode in reds, blues, yellows and every possible color in the clothes of dancers and participants.The photo is from the highway when I was coming back to Juliaca, crossing one of the parties in the fields near a town. As I knew that I couldn’t get a sharp picture of the dancers I preferred to focus in the hand and insinuate the colorful party outside, it was almost night but people was very happy and who knows how many time they could been outside. Our traditional parties usually aren’t inside temples or buildings but in open plazas or fields.
Magic morning in another planet
Do you remember the last eclipse in 2014 year? well, yes or no this photograph is from that eclipse. The Moon looks quite unusual, more like a giant planet.
The photo is not very big because I cropped a lot; even with the most of the optical zoom I couldn’t get more closer, but that’s ok, it’s better to have a photograph to remember something lived than nothing at all.
Qhapaq 