Picturesque morning

picturesque morning

Plaza Mayor in downtown La Paz is one of the places with the biggest number of changes. The Bolivian capital seems to always have projects there, from child to teen I remember the crowds and the books sellers, people always walking, waiting, and sometimes running. Now  it’s free of sellers and it’s bigger and quieter; with modern structures that harmonize very well with the old buildings. Actually I prefer it as a place to rest than Plaza Murillo that is the main civic plaza at the city.

The old river Chuquiyapu (called by Spaniards Choqueyapu) runs under the plaza. It seems that Spaniards in those centuries used the sources of water as sewers so they hide the rivers that in our way before colony instead had to be completely clean and the sewers cannot blend with the rivers in the cities, nor in other places. Actually water was considered a gift from our Apus (mountains)

So Plaza Mayor is a place open to the sky and with a secret river under your feet.

Trees – A (Dedicated to an olive tree climber)

come closer friend

come closer, friend

I’m afraid that there are not trees from the jungle but that’s nothing that a bit of time and money cannot solve (the hard part is to get the money XD) These trees are from the Andean Plateau and the valleys in the desert.

Four casual friends talk

four casual friends talk

I don't care I'm going to scape

I don’t care. I am scaping now!

isolated a


above the city a tree wants to be free

above the city a tree wants to be free

forest of succa aya

forest of Succa Aya

No time for rest

no time for rest

Now is time to grow up

now is time to grow up

I want to touch the sky

I want to touch the sky

three with tree fingers

three with tree fingers

let yourself go

let yourself go

serene march

serene march

hey cross what are you doing

hey, Cross! what are you doing?!

tired trees

tired trees

can you hear us

Can you hear us?!

Cúpula entrevista

cúpula entrevista




And that’s all for today, I hope you find one akin to your spirit ;-)

Treeshold to a world of darkness

threeshold to a world in darkness

I find the concise structure of English language haunting in its malleability. I can change words, mix and blend them with just a few turns like a wordsmith:

  • Moonochrome: Moon  + monochrome = my gallery exclusively about the white moon in the sky.
  • Cathering: Cat + gathering = a gathering of cats, but I think I’ve heard this one before.
  • Batmoon: Batman + Moon = a Moon shining in a cloud in shape of Batman’s symbol.
  • Watchflower: Watchtower + flower = a flower where an ant seems to watch the gardens.

With trees I have more freedom:

  • Treeshold: Tree + Threshold.
  • Portreeit: Portrait of a Tree.
  • Happy Tree Friends: Here I mixed the title of a violent cartoon “Happy Three Friends” with the image of three trees.

I have no read Ulysses’ Joyce yet but I understand he mastered those games in his book. But I prefer a plain word with significance than verbal experiments. I blend words just in the case I find that could help to explain me better in less words. In this post I wanted to mix the magic nature of a tree with the magical side of a threshold as border to another reality.


Portrait of a wall

black constellation

Black Constellation

I’ve noticed that lately my posts have images with strong colors. Always is nice to have balance, so today I post photographs without salt or sugar.

All of them are form an exterior wall of the Santa Catalina Monastery. A little city from colonial ages in Arequipa city. The great Mexican architect Barragán said that one of the most powerful vehicles of mystery, architecturally speaking, is the top of a tree hinted behind a wall. What could be behind? It could be a patio? A garden? A place with children running?

Perhaps the idea is powerful because the mythology is prolific in forbidden and sacred trees. Especially in Europe.



crann na beatha agus an chros

Crann na beatha agus an Chros







Running across the mystery of a blind life

running across the mystery of a blind life

I think, I believe, some of the most perfect fables I’ve ever read are from Kafka. One of them, brief and complete as a new and fine silver ring, is about a mouse running across convergent walls; as a sort of big and heavy trap bigger than the existence and substance of every being on the world. Just running without meaning because life is just like that…

It sounds threatening. I don’t want to ruin it telling with my words the argument of so beautiful text, I’ll just say that the revelation in it sounds like the things we secretly know are an intimate truth.