Mixed media
Pura libertad de expresión. Imperfección. Música, prosa, vídeo, voz y poesía.
With weathered pine limbs relocated,
The brittle encina lies split,
This holm oaks design is now twisted,
Its trunk, limbs and branches apart.
The soils winter skin is for breaking,
When forced open its richness exposed,
Uplifted there is hardship inverted,
The seedlings now buried, bring life.
Honesty is painful like winds landfall,
Its a wind that can level and smash,
It destroys and decimates the stagnant,
But like new soil gives fresh life and growth.
An inevitable unfolding of spring time,
Heralded by tendrils of warmth,
While the living sense winter retracting,
Feel its cold fingers loosen their grip.
And sharp rings the birds song at day break,
For the new soil gives comfort and heart,
The bird finds the pink worms abundance,
And takes life to give new life its start.
Me enamoré,
I fell in love
y se me rompieron las piernas de la vida,
and the legs of my life broke beneath me,
los pies se sostuvieron por ser callosos y duros,
my feet held on because they were calloused and hard,
pero el temblor en las extremidades fue demasiado fuerte.
but the trembling in my limbs was too strong.
Ahora mis manos tocan un piano invisible,
Now my hands play an invisible piano,
y de mi espalda tostada salen dos alas de ángel oscuro
and from my sun-warmed back emerge two dark angel wings,
que me guían al lado de su mirada azul,
that guide me to the side of his blue gaze,
de cuya pura vida salpica un mar,
from whose pure life a sea splashes forth,
que llena el cielo del océano,
that fills the sky of the ocean,
más bello que mis ojos vieron jamás.
more beautiful than anything my eyes had ever seen.
Con las piernas rotas ya,
With our legs already broken,
hemos tejido cuatro piernas juntas,
we have woven our four legs together,
con miel de abeja y azahar,
with bee honey and orange blossom,
para hacernos con nuestras vidas,
to claim our lives,
como quien se hace con,
as one claims,
un territorio.
a territory.
Él es mi territorio,
He is my territory,
y mi sangre es un sólo río rojo con la suya,
and my blood is a single red river with his,
Él se enamoró también y Dios,
He fell in love too and God,
dios mío si existes, ¡él se enamoró también!
my God, if you exist —he fell in love too!
The woman stands in front of broken and roofless house, she wears red,
The hands of another woman working at an argan nut mill,
They are smooth and as fresh and unsullied as a babies skin,
The man on a low powered motorbike drives at full throttle into the wind.
He leans forwards as if his inclination will help increase his speed.
On the side of the road badly parked an old 4x4,
nearby its driver is stretching his arms to the mountain sky in prayer.
The Beréber greet on the side of the road,
The young man reaches for and holds the older womans hands in his,
He lets them go and kisses his own now empty hands.
All are dressed in woollen mountain capes with pointed hoods,
greys browns blacks greens and reds.
Around us is the recent fallen snow.
Ghost adobe hamlets built into the frozen mountains slopes.
Nothing. The only currency the cold.
Lengthening shadows thrown eastwards by the low Atlas Mountains.
While plastic lies everywhere, ubiquitous, our permanent signature and our closing act.
The air is dry and hard, and clear, it transports the light and amplifies the colors.
It’s a desert dryness, unforgiving, impatient.
We drive for days,
The distant landscape slowly passing.
5 birds travel at the exact velocity of our car,
The mountain looms persistent and permanent.
We pass Tamarest, Acases and the Eucalyptus,
A hundreda kilometers of palmeras,
Whose roots dive deep into the rock bed and resistant stones
To suck the water of the oasis.
This is the middle of nowhere and the centre of everything
The river, dried now, took 4, but left only two bodies,
Tthe others lost under the sands.
Another bird, startled, flies with us,
It makes a mortal error and collides with the vehicle,
We meet an ancient poet nomad,
He is fluent in 5 languages,
In the cafe a young barman,
He tells me he is studying french literature,
This is his 5th year,
He supports his whole family.
We drive towards the moon settling in the morning high Altas mountains.