not say in that place, nor in what time nor who exactly, but one day someone decided that living was not enough and began to tell stories and these stories were of a terrible beauty, as well wonderful that made everyone forget their miserable existence. It tells of lovers who share the same sky and the earth itself and heroes whose courage and heart overflowed with blood spurting oak color So when they fell in battle. The explorers traveled on a ship full of exotic fruits, accompanied by sailors with ebony skin and his hair soaked with salty sea air dried. long swords hanging on the wall rested, ready to be stripped to combat pirates, Indians and pirates by rotten teeth. scholars in libraries, however, they were carrying stacks of yellowed books written with a thousand different handwritings, and they always had something to do like the moms who care for their children patiently. it was all a dream that blossomed and died a quiet evening in the concerns of all. someone, one day, decided that life was no longer enough.
it all started as a joke, trying to revive the slumbering recollection of nocturnal dreams buried somewhere in the cerebral cortex. fragmentary images and photographs out of focus as far away as stacked in a mosaic of uncertainty were fished in the clearness of the day and baptized in the fountain of consolation. to sequence consisted a strange story full of gaps that were filled almost embarrassing. mend that fabric frayed and worn-out was an almost impossible because those who tried had no words for the occasion. so we had to create new words and expressions that enrich a poor language mirror of deprivation in the city where they all lived. Only some were able to play with the language of the place and while the mass insecure stammering their sick with new combinations of letters and accents. they covered their faces with white masks decorated with thin threads of black acrylic and wore long red dresses hiding in huge caps and dark. in the evening when the day passed away in strong sun was beating on his head, they all sat in a circle to relax your hands and crossing his knees and with a firm voice of the Druids began to talk about this forgotten Babel wrapping the ears of the audience silent, while the existence of hunger was gradually satisfied imagining the flowering hills on the edge of the plains and marshes of buzzing insects. in the ancient towers of lava stone naughty courtesans entertained their languid aristocrats who wanted a balcony and within the narrow waist in tight corsets always about to explode. was a succession of magic that accompanied the babies to sleep quietly in groups in the arms of young women.
some the next morning they wake up even, unable to face the nightmare that had become their daily routine of work done, anger, fatigue, control of nausea and inconsistencies. wrote some excerpts of the story last night on the palms with black ink and we read them in secret before the sweat will turn into meaningless doodles. kindergarten children were colored with crayons faces to resemble their heroes leaving night games in cardboard boxes while the teachers is checking in the mirrors of bathrooms and revive hair assuming poses dive inflating their aprons and bending awkwardly shaped clothes from the stage. men working in the fields spurred the mule as a runaway horse by the mane of copper scrubbed with brushes and handle forks and hoes should almost go to war at that moment and the uncultivated land was swallowed up by weeds and thorny brambles. Everyone is looking for a way to escape and create your own size, a surrogate for happiness in swallowing pills whose side effects raped early evening the day to live with open eyes and shiny. were slowly dying, each soul was burning less and less as his head exploded refuge behind the romance of a Norman king, and soon came the last time history and the last breath before reassuring eternal sleep.
one day someone decided that life was no longer enough and has fooled time and space with endless stories of living and all you are left with the most tender visions paths chills and cramps and please the ego of porcelain decorated with the voluptuousness of their existence. now the fear of the unknown was ramped up as an infectious disease and nobody wanted to return to the uncertainty built day after day in homes and apartments, offices and schools. happy smiles on faces serene went out in tales of chivalry that all they had chosen. had to change as children playing in a complete sticker album because, absorbed and naive, had forgotten that in reality even our world lives and dies all the time, silent, as "a dream within a dream."
