Two giant clouds chasing a few little ones

 

In a blue savanna cotton creatures play to hunt and run. Celestial stories.

Hidden rose

 

Thinking in Dante’s Divine Comedy. Another sky in another Earth, except the Sun there is not a star but a somebody; and perhaps he secretly wanted that somebody to be a Beatrice.

(Part of a longer work I’m doing based in Dante’s work)

The silent march

 

Drums play a rhythm from an unknown, hide from eyes, ship. If it’s a pirate one from old times nobody knows; but every boat goes to there across the ending day.

The sun is orange, but the drums would like it red. There is something scary in them.

Art inside

 

I’d just want a hole in the wall so its art would be the changing sky.

I can dream designs of complex structures and shapes dressed in titanium flakes,

oriental arches with golden vaults and sultry textures of oriental splendor…

But instead I just want a hole to see the sky, and nothing, or nobody, more (-_-‘)

Clouds over the yellow fields

 

Under the fury and the noise of storms and powerful winds a field of yellow plants bloosom in a perfect field of yellow suns. Delicate doesn’t equals to lack of will to survive.

Far sun

 

And a group of lovers of the Sun sing their love with sailors’ songs.

Persistent sun in this heart, but so far as if we were in Pluto lands.

A golden coin playing in my fingers

Branches dreaming that they are caressing the sun…

Watchers in the garden

 

The tall trees in Ilo city. The treetops change across the day, the sea birds live there so leaves and feathers mix to shape winged trees singing sharp sailor songs. ^o^

(But don’t search for them in this photograph, usually they are in the mornings)

Literal piece of heaven

I love the twilight sky… it has tones from a warm purple blended gradually with a fresh blue. It has a certain silence, as if the day would holding the breath before the night; when the latter comes then again the life starts to breath again with the artificial lights turning on here and there.

Follow for Follow

There are a kind of bloggers I don’t understand, they just follow my blog and that’s all. They never appear again or make a comment or press the like button to prove they are there. But, I always review the visitors blogs; there was one in special I remember… he wrote about a cycle: he follows somebody and then this person follows him; this person click the like button and he do the same. He just followed me but never appeared, not every blogger likes comments so I am careful in that. I commented and told him that I follow somebody because I think it is interesting what he/she posts, I don’t do it for a follow; if I press the like button is because I liked it, not because I want a “like” in change, as I did with him despite he never came. Certainly I have not done efforts to make popular my blog. In the end it seemed that he was that kind of blogger that posts because needs popularity, not because he just feels the need to write, compose, draw, etcetera for an inner impulse. I unfollowed him. Those “follow for follow”… I don’t understand them. In the times this was a private Microsoft space I wrote just because, and I still do it.

Sleeping Stones in the Orange Ocean of the blue boats

I wonder if the scene my eyes saw, this sunset, were the same as others have seen since thousands of years ago. Ilo has remains since centuries and centuries ago, old traditions of fleets of boats and sailors and fishermen, an Inca travelling to the Antarctic sea and coming back from the islands in perhaps the Polynesia. But always the boats, with different shapes, but always there.