30.4.13

#2. One Picture. One Story. || Yellow robe.

WARNING: Look carefully to this picture because it has so much to tell you. 
WARNING: Contemplad atentamente esta imagen porque tiene mucho que deciros.



(ENGLISH)

"I remember her as if I had just seen her and it actually had passed a few days since that happened. And from then until the time allowed me, I was coming to this place every day. At the same time, wanting for her. But the moment in which I will see her again takes too long to come.

For now she lived in my memories, that's what she was, memories. An intense memory that every time that came to my mind became a little more real. 

I remember that robe that was covering her hair and arms, the same color as the dress which she was grabbing with her hands to avoid tripping while walking on the ground. As yellow as the sun. That lit any nook of the square in its path.


Before she passed in front of me I was getting some things, I just bought in the market, in the backpack.

What made me lift my head and look at her?

It wasn't her perfume, it wasn't her scent. But the feeling she sent to me. Only with passing before me, with only those moments I felt I knew her, I felt she was someone familiar to me, like we've been together forever.

I lift my face and keept staring at her. And then she stopped. She stopped and turned her head. She toured the market with her big green eyes that contrasted with the dark color of her skin. Despite the situation I did not look away from her and in the end her eyes met mine.

I kept my eyes on her, I made no gesture, no movement in fear of scaring her. I didn't even smiled.

She did not move, She didn't look away from my eyes. I felt how her chest was moving with the rhythm of the beats of her heart, increasingly faster. I was different for her, a white man, with blond hair and blue eyes. A stranger in a land that was not his. Even an intruder. Someone who she has never seen.

I caught her attention.

I stoke her curiosity.

But before anything could happen she grabbed her dress and ran. She ran so fast that I did not realize that she was not there anymore.

It was the most beautiful woman I had known. Beautiful in every sense.

And I'm still here in the same square, in the same place. Waiting to see reappear the woman who that day changed my life. "



(SPANISH)

"La recuerdo como si la acabara de ver y en realidad habían pasado ya unos cuantos días. Y desde aquel momento y hasta que el tiempo me lo permitiera, todo los días venía a esta plaza. A la misma hora, con ganas de volver a verla. Pero ese momento se hacía esperar.

Por ahora ella vivía en mis recuerdos, eso es lo que era, recuerdos y nada de realidad. Pero un recuerdo intenso, que cada vez que se manifestaba en mi mente se hacía un poco más real.

Recuerdo ese manto que le cubría el pelo y los brazos, del mismo color que el vestido que con sus manos recogía para no tropezarse mientras andaba sobre la tierra. Un color amarillo como el sol. Que alumbró cualquier recoveco de la plaza a su paso.


Antes de que pasara delante mio yo me encontraba metiendo unas cosas, que acababa de comprar en el mercado, dentro de la mochila.

¿Qué me hizo levantar la cabeza y mirarla?

No fue su perfume, no fue su olor. Si no la sensación que me transmitió. Solo con pasar delante mio, solo con esos instantes sentí que la conocía, sentí que era alguien familiar, como si hubiésemos estado juntos toda la vida.

Levante la cara y me quede mirándola. Y entonces se paró. Se paró y giro la cabeza. Recorrió el mercado con sus grandes ojos verdes que contrastaban con el oscuro color de su piel. A pesar de la situación yo no aparte la mirada de ella y al final sus ojos se encontraron con los míos.

Yo mantuve la mirada sobre ella, no hice ningún gesto, ningún movimiento con miedo a asustarla. Ni siquiera le sonreí.

Ella tampoco se movía, tampoco apartaba la mirada de mis ojos. Sentía como su pecho se movía al ritmo de las pulsaciones de su corazón, cada vez más acelerado. Yo era diferente para ella, un hombre blanco, rubio y de ojos azules. Un extranjero en una tierra que no era la suya. Incluso un intruso. Alguien a quien nunca había visto.

Llame su atención.

Avivé su curiosidad.

Pero antes de que pudiese suceder algo se recogió el vestido y salió corriendo. Corrió tan deprisa que no me di cuenta de que ya no estaba ahí.

Era la mujer más bella que había conocido. Bella en todo los sentidos.

Y aquí sigo yo, en la misma plaza, en el mismo lugar. Esperando a que vuelva a aparecer la que aquel día cambió mi vida."




14.4.13

#1. One Picture. One Story. || In the darck.

WARNING: Look carefully to this picture because it has so much to tell you. 
WARNING: Contemplad atentamente esta imagen porque tiene mucho que deciros.



(ENGLISH)

"Nothing is what it seems. Nothing is as one thinks it is. Things we see with our eyes are not really that way, they are different. They change. They will never be the same.


In the middle of the night, surrounded by so much darkness I realized it. I realized that in fact I did not know anything, I did not know anyone. Yes, even the people whith whom I was more close those with whom I shared my life, I did not know them. I realized that as much as I pawned everything would change. Everyone would change.

This makes me feel weak,  feel insecure and  feel like I need help but I say to myself that it is only the effect that the dark night has on me, the effect that the distant city lights have on my eyes. An unexplained effect.

I have always liked to spend the night on the terrace of the building. Alone. Looking at the dark landscape. It has something that has made me spend hours without caring about anything. But tonight is different. It was not me who had decided to go up to the terrace. No.

It was the nervous voice of a stranger.

"Get on the terrace as you always do. Here you feel safe and you will be safe today"

Yes, he was right. Whenever I went up here I felt good, I felt safe. But not today.

Today I had a bad feeling.

Anyway I knew nothing. I could do nothing. And for some strange reason I did not move from where I was, not come down to my apartment.

I spent all night up. Seeing how the cars head for the city. Many cars. Many people who will be lost in this immense world. As the city keeps its lights on. Tall buildings that continue to light the sky.

And I fall asleep.

I do not realize.

And are the sounds of fire sirens, the sirens of police cars, ambulances which wake me up. There is so much noise, too much fuss. At first when I open my eyes I do not know what I'm doing there. But then as minutes pass I remember everything.

The anonymous call.

I remember how I fell asleep.

I look outside and see how all that noise that woke me up has being materialized in the street. Firefighters, policemen, doctors. Also curious people.

I do not know what happened and that worries me.

I get scared. I will go down but the door is closed. I can not leave. I can not lose. And that's when I panic. I'm locked in the top floor of a seven-storey building. On the terrace. There is no way to get off. I can not leave.

I go to the border of the building again and I start to scream, I scream with all my might but no one seems to hear me. They Do not look up but instead they are looking towards the front door of the building.

I walk away from the edge and take a deep breath. I have to reassure.

I look up at the sky. The night is over and has given its way to the day. The situation has changed. There is no artificial light coming out of the city. It seems that everything is natural.

Again I peek and I look at what people are watching. A procession of firefighters who carry white bags of the size of a person comes out from the building. Many white bags.

I realize what they are.

And I panic, and this time I have no way to calm down because what I have seen will be with me the rest of my life.

Bodies.

Inert bodies.

Lifeless bodies.

And that's when the anonymous call pops in my head again.

"Get on the terrace as you always do. Here you feel safe and you will be safe today"

And only now I realize its significance. They were transcendent words. But I'm scared. It scares me to know that someone knew what was going to happen and for some unknown reason chose me to be the one who will survive.

I have not moved from the edge of the building but I'm not paying attention to what's going down. I can not keep looking. So I do not realize that people realize that I'm up here I don't realize how they whisper among themselves. I don't realize how some firefighters reenter the building.

I do not realize it until I hear a noise at the door.

I jump.

"Miss!"

"Miss stay away from the door, we are going to tear it down!"

Although I was not around the door I keep as away as I can. I hear a thud and the door falls down. And three firefighters come from it. They approach me carefully and examine me but they see I'm safe. That nothing happened to me. They talk to me but I don't hear anything so they make gestures indicating that I should follow them. I start walking.

I walk through the door and realize that someone has locked it from the inside. Someone has locked the door so I could not go out or so anyone could get to me.

I do not care.

I just know that there have been many murders in my building but I'm safe."



(ESPAÑOL)

" Nada es lo que parece. Nada es como uno piensa. Las cosas que vemos con nuestros ojos no son en realidad de esa manera, son diferentes. Cambian. Nunca son las mismas.

En medio de la noche, rodeada de tanta oscuridad me di cuenta de ello. Me di cuenta de que en realidad no sabía nada, que en realidad no conocía nada ni a nadie. Sí, incluso las personas con las que más relación tenía, con las que compartía mi vida, tampoco los conocía. Me di cuenta de que por mucho que me empeñara todo cambiaría. Todos cambiarían.

Esto me hace sentir débil, me hace sentir insegura y que necesito ayuda pero se que se trata únicamente del efecto que la noche cerrada tiene sobre mi, del efecto que las lejanas luces de la ciudad tienen sobre mis ojos. Un efecto inexplicable.

Siempre me ha gustado pasar las noches en la terraza del edificio. Sola. Contemplando el oscuro paisaje. Tiene un atractivo que me ha hecho pasar horas y horas sin importarme nada. Pero esta noche es diferente. No había sido yo quien había decidido subir a la terraza. No.

Fue la voz nerviosa de un desconocido.

"Sube a la terraza como haces siempre. Ahí te sientes a salvo y hoy estarás a salvo"

Si, tenía razón. Siempre que subía aquí arriba me sentía bien, me sentía a salvo. Pero no hoy.

Hoy tenía un mal presentimiento.

De todas formas no sabía nada. No podía hacer nada. Y por alguna extraña razón no me moví de donde estaba, no baje a mi apartamento.

Pasé toda la noche arriba. Viendo como los coches se dirigen a la ciudad. Muchos coches. Muchas persona que se perderán en ese inmenso mundo. Como la ciudad mantiene sus luces encendidas. Edificios muy altos que no dejan de alumbrar el cielo.

Y me quedo dormida.

No me doy cuenta.

Y son los sonidos de las sirenas de bomberos, las sirenas de los coches de policía, de las ambulancias los que me despiertan. Hay mucho ruido, mucho alboroto. Al principio cuando abro los ojos no se que hago ahí. Pero entonces conforme me voy despejando lo recuerdo todo.

La llamada anónima.

Recuerdo como me quede dormida.

Me asomo a la calle y veo como todo ese ruido que me ha levantado esta materializado en la calle. Los bomberos, los policías, los médicos. También la gente curiosa.

No se que ha pasado y eso me preocupa.

Me asusto. Voy a la puerta para bajar pero esta cerrada. No puedo salir. No puedo bajar. Y es entonces cuando me entra el pánico. Estoy encerrada en el último piso de un edificio de siete plantas. En la terraza. No hay forma de que baje. No puedo salir.

Me vuelvo a asomar y grito, grito con todas mis fuerzas pero parece que nadie me oye. No miran hacia arriba si no que están mirando hacia la puerta principal del edificio.

Me alejo del borde y respiro hondo. Me tengo que tranquilizar.

Miro hacia arriba, hacia el cielo abierto. Ya se ha acabado la noche y ha dado paso al día. La situación a cambiado. Ya no hay luz artificial que sale de la ciudad. Parece que todo es natural.

Vuelvo a asomarme y me fijo en lo que la gente esta mirando. Del edificio sale una procesión de bomberos que cargan bolsas blancas del tamaño de una persona. Muchas bolsas blancas.

Me doy cuenta de lo que son.

Y me entra el pánico y esta vez no hay forma de calmarlo porque lo que he visto me va a acompañar el resto de mi vida.

Cuerpos.

Cuerpos inertes.

Cuerpos sin vida.

Y es entonces cuando la llamada anónima de ayer vuelve a mi cabeza.

"Sube a la terraza como haces siempre. Ahí te sientes a salvo y hoy estarás a salvo"
Y es ahora cuando me doy cuenta de su significado. De lo trascendentes que han sido esas palabras. Pero me da miedo. Me da miedo saber que alguien sabía todo lo que iba a pasar y que por alguna desconocida razón me eligió a mi para sobrevivir.

No me he movido del borde del edificio pero no estoy prestando atención a lo que pasa abajo. No puedo seguir mirando. Por eso no me doy cuenta de que la gente se da cuenta de que estoy abajo, no me doy cuenta de como murmuran entre ellos. De como algunos bomberos vuelven a entrar en el edificio.

No me doy cuenta hasta que oigo un ruido en la puerta. Me sobresalto.

"Señorita!" 

"Señorita apártese de la puerta, vamos a tirarla abajo!"
A pesar de que no estaba cerca me alejo mucho más. Oigo un ruido seco y la puerta cae abajo. Entran tres bomberos. Se acercan a mi con cuidado, me examinan pero ven que estoy a salvo. Que no me ha pasado nada. Me dicen que les acompañe pero no escucho, no escucho nada. Me hacen gestos indicando que les siga. Empiezo a andar.

Cruzo la puerta y me doy cuenta de que alguien la ha cerrado desde dentro. Alguien me ha encerrado para que no pudiera salir o para que nadie llegara a mi.

No me importa.

Solo se que ha habido asesinatos en mi edificio pero que yo estoy a salvo."


12.4.13

One Picture. One Story.


via Tumblr.com/tagged/books

If  having one blog it's hard, let's see how it is to have two blogs. 

I'm the owner of Her Place at The Universe. a blog where I share things about my life and about what I love (i.e. Fashion, Architecture and last but not least Islam). But I somehow needed this blog. I needed this little piece of world only for my thought, only for the things I want to tell, for the things I want to write. 

I will talk about me, about you, about this world, but in a very different way. I won't write well made essays, no I will write stories, fictional stories that could be real. They will tell my story, what I may be suffering at that moment. They may tell your story. They may tell the story of the world.

I don't talk. Something I don't like about myself is that I don't share my deepest feelings with the ones who most love me (i.e. family and closest friends) I don't know why but I think is that I don't know how tell them,. I've allways though about it, but when the moment comes I don't find the words. So I hope this helps me.

And I hope this may also help you.

So this way I introduce you my new little place:

One Picture. One Story.

UPDATE: Since awhile ago, my dearest friend from the blog La Tour de Force has joined me in this journey that is slowlly growing up. She has great writting skills and is also a great persone really close to me, and I'm really happy for having her by myside on this. Hope you enjoy our stories. Hope you can learn from them. Hope you can feel them.