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now would be walking together and talking of those endless topics that we lack. I like that, from time to time to talk, and sometimes let the dialogue of breathing and strokes set the tone of the issues that we are never finished.

Similarly makes me laugh your little nose breathe on my neck and lost in my hair, find your eyes to turn over flashes of vision and following you in the dark again with smell and touch and sounds and everything but the eyes. I think that with the eyes just look at you go, in contrast with the other senses keep you by my side.

guess your next step, rediscover your figure in my hands and it is fixed in my body, as the chemical process of photography.

is good too, that from time to time, we forget a little about each other and in a sneak attack from memory, you appear in my thoughts and my chest tightening, point my hands and I call a way or another, but you call.

Other days, in which wandering aimlessly, we are and that is when we realize that we wanted, in seeking and finding grace is often the key to never know everything, and always wanting to find out.

I think I still have a number of smiles, tears, of laughter, looks, touches, caresses, des meetings and encounters, desperate cries, torment and bitter struggles within our bodies meet the other, like animals to hide, cuddle each other, sleeping and not sleeping nights, that the two are good things.

find what hurts now, compared to my memories, and know you have spent days and your words echo in my chest and your eyes lost in me eyes, and knowing that you are distant, almost absent (I say almost because I cling to the memory and each time I call, but no longer respond); sorry watched from a distance, awkward, desperate, assuming that at any moment you stop loving me or worse, you never loved me. I walk twice those routes that did not lead anywhere, and I carried you, but now I should carry you, and do not take me anywhere.

I shed the words of Whitman, Benedetti, Dalton and many others, just to fill my head with my own words that you write, but write me full of doubts, ask me answers that do not answer them because I myself do not even understand myself and desperate This time I know that in a longer only be the memory of a pain, but now it hurts like hell, and not something that causes me more peace of mind to stay with that pain, at least a while longer, at least to understand.

My field of battle - once marked by your figure shooting and cats in the crowds and the times susceptible to being caught by my camera - no longer so attractive, if I met you in one of my photos, now you static discharge without even seeing a photo.

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The Swell Season - Ireland

few days ago I went to see them in a single session in Madrid ... Two of them are known for starring in the movie "Once " (I talked about it long ago: here ) One of his songs " Falling Slowly " was winning or scar. The truth is that although they had not had all these awards ... not even ... the movie ... your music is special, and somehow makes you vibrate ... Of course the theater where we were vibrated with their voices, their music, the lyrics of their songs ... really with them and what they leave in each song. Marketa's voice is amazing ... and very simple. I like your voice and transmitting it to her ...

His voice is very powerful ... torn and hangs out with the same guitar "broken" in the movie Once ... That was something that caught my attention.

say they are his last concerts as a group ... that they plan to separate ... Too bad because his music as a whole is great.

Among them there ... an Irish musician who plays the violin beautifully. We gave a single ancient Irish music and said in English that was a song very very old. " Both

Marketa and Glen are very close ... there was who approached the stage with them and accompanied with its castanets one of his songs ... (If you want me ). Showed his more cheerful ending with a song that were inventing the letter and we accompanied them by clicking their fingers. There was no mircrofono sang songs ... and no sound involved in the Let mixing machines ... ... to remove the hat.

And although I feel sorry for those stories in which we are told that they may not stay together ... their music, however, still ringing in our ears ...

And ... traveling with his music at home, I stopped to see a small book on the shelf that long ago that I do nothing of the case. It is a small book format and fine. Hardcover. It's called "Springs of Irish Love" and has fragments of poems, Yeats, Wilde, Shaw and Swift. Sometimes a book of poems is necessary. And this led me to think of the book and the journey I did about six years ago to Ireland. Although the weather was not, was a very interesting trip. Ireland had always wished to travel by car ... and see that emerald green color and its people.

The truth is I have not gone back, but lately Celtic music again knocking on my door and there are things like this half-Irish group that made me remember those moments. Walking into a pub, live music. Feel the warmth of the people ... And hear the silence of nature. And the castle ruins ...

photos ... not that they are very good, but are taken with different cameras. The concert very quickly, because I could not .... And the Irish are mainly related to Kinsale (a small coastal town south of Ireland, near Cork) and the Cliffs of Moher (translated as the cliffs of the ruin ) They are awesome ...

few days I am off to the Celtic lands of Iberia ... I tell you around!

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Dear Granny Smith - A letter from your Postman - Roy Mayall

While in London, came into my hands a little book with great content. The book will "kidnap" from start. We're all Granny Smith y. .. this book is intended as a letter of about 120 pages of our postman ... or rather the Royal Mail

is a nice book, very readable, in which they explain what life is like a postman, and what might happen in the future. .. maybe a little uncertain for those who carry the cards.

There is a whole chapter on time. At about not having time to be late ... where? Anywhere. He speaks of her time ... when I passed by the house and the children got very happy to know that the postman came ... and when, occasionally, offered him a cup of tea and he accepted it sometimes (as in the story of " Friendly Postman

")... Another chapter on rainy days, days in office ... The truth is it's a little sad to think that all this can end the cards ... are not as expected as before .... And maybe one day these people laden with bags of mail, and are not ... And who would not look forward to receive a postcard or a letter? Even if it's here next! This book has begun in me the desire to return it to write a letter. The fact of sitting at the desk and decide what to knowing that I can not erase with a key.

This book led me to think about the boxes ... Benedetti once wrote a book I loved it "Mailbox of time." The cover has a mailbox and the book contains several letters ... All types. They all make you travel, to joy, nostalgia, ... Only you can discover the whole story, only the person who writes layout you want to convey. It is a beautiful book, very suitable for the fall. Not all letters belong to the same person and history ... Whereupon is an ideal book to combine with other readings. I come to mind, some of those letters that were written in a bar, while people who write notes in and out.

So I went to the shelf and thinking about all this I set eyes on Helene Hanff and her book of letters ... watch it around me and I do not want to write this ... It is over to pick up a pencil, a pen, a Bic pen ... and translate our letter on pieces of paper ... sometimes more readable than other ... I remember the hours I spent trying to decipher some letters I wrote, when the email and the phone did not exist. Today similar happens with it to write less words ... Little by little it seems you are creating a new common language.

There is no such summer in which she receives a score of letters between friends and new people I knew ... And how wonderful it was to reach home and find mailbox full cards. In my parents' house several cardboard boxes with thousands of letters. I never threw any ... Last summer I was rereading some of them ... Yen occasions, I said ... but what are you talking about? I did not know what they meant ... since I have my answers, but not without laughs. Other reminded me of trips and travel times that I have no photos.

This also made me think when I was younger and spent long periods with my grandparents ... The postman used to warn that the door was whistling. He was running around the house to be the first to collect the cards. And my aunts shared his love letters to my grandparents' letters from relatives who lived far away, and yes I was lucky, there was some for me. Was a pleasure to read ... who does not remember having a letter hand and decide whether to immediately open although not the best time to read it or keep it easy, when there is less chance of being interrupted? In my case, usually despite the anxiety of knowing the content, used to keep them until the evening.

But back to the mailboxes ... what will become of them? Disappear? Will become an icon most of our cities. Where I live it is difficult we found a mailbox. So much so that sometimes I go straight to email. Museums will remain on time? Those places where we put our news, happy, sad, full of emotion ... Today, as many expect that news at Christmas.

and seals! Walking around Oxford found a place that sold stamps 24 hours a day ... I can assure you that sometimes you want to buy stamps when they were already closed tight. And send the letters first thing in the morning.

As I say, is a book full of charm, but with a touch of melancholy. Can be carried in a backpack, a pocket ... And reading it, you discover that the postman is not someone who does not know you ... Maybe some time you know who you are. Once, not long ago, I sent a postcard to a friend, but wrong address. Realized portfolio, read the name and gave the chance to know my friend ... so I sent it despite the terrible mistake I had.

letter boxes displayed are from different places in London, Oxford, Guernsey, Mont Saint Michael, Leuven ... The truth is that I have pictures of the boxes closest to my home ... Although I must say that recently, I've realized I have one behind my house ... Perhaps, reading this book, I opened eyes.

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A video farewell to think

Today there are not many want to say things, so just leave this video. Take this opportunity to fire a friend, who started the journey before anyone else. A huge hug Sharlie Mami!

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by Oxford

Oxford is one of the towns in England we like ... And if we spent more than two days in London, one of which is dedicated to travel in the suburbs. This time, again ... walk through Oxford. Now everything is beautiful, with earthy colors of autumn. And from the train, when I went through Reading I could not help thinking of Jane Austen and her sister Cassandra studying at this school for girls at their father sent them.

When the train stopped at its end of the line ... and I saw large signs Oxford, it was clear that it is time again be accompanied by CS Lewis and Tolkien. And after dusting the walking path occasional shopping street ... I stopped to visit some libraries that caught my attention too. But my visit was brief and directed my steps towards less crowded streets.

First I visited the Botanical Garden Kohathites where different trees, plants, flowers and some plants are safeguarded in greenhouses cold ...

The Garden is most welcoming. Apparently you can get you a bonus of those for the whole year and not have to constantly be taking an input. I saw several mothers with their children teaching them the names of the flowers and trees.

I also saw people walking quietly, sitting on benches reading or just watching the beautiful day and around us.

And as I walked slowly, enjoying the little flowers, I found Tolkien's favorite tree, which used to rest sitting on its roots and stroking its trunk. Is the tree that they believe was inspired to create these creatures are as interesting as Ents. called and Pinus Nigra comes from Austria. And he has many years, though not the oldest tree in the garden.

A part of this tree, the botanic garden, as I say, is full of magical places ... it also used to spend time creator Alice in Wonders of , mathematician Lewis Carroll ... This summer garden party snack.

But not only stopped in this wonderful space ... After I entered the Magdelene College, where he walked around his yard, the dining room and then a walk surrounded by trees, where deer live. Sitting on a bench contemplates the fall of the golden autumn leaves and read the plaque on one wall, the Addison Road. The is an excerpt from a poem by CS Lewis. This poem makes a nod to nature. Apparently this was a customary walk at sunset were used, Tolkien and Lewis ... They say that during these trips used to talk about religion and that Lewis converted to Christianity.

After this ride so beautiful, I went, the pub where the two friends would talk about stories and stories they would like to read ... There in the Rabbit Room, dined and took tea. Later I took a walk through the streets of Oxford, for his higth Street, Merton Street ... and some other shopping street. I visited bookstores, until it was time to catch the train back to London.

Upon reaching the station, I invited a car to bring hot cocoa and also ... I was accompanied by "Surprised by Joy" biography of CS Lewis and biography Tolkien Humphrey Carpenter. The night journey lasted about one hour to Paddington station ... and that viajeestuvo full of stories about two friends ... and now, to those places that I read, had new images accompanying them.

I do not think it takes much rereading it again this fall ...

As a curiosity: They say that the Magdelene College in 1995 was expanded (part) thanks to profits from the film "Shadowlands" ... Of course, in the cafeteria Collage no photos of Anthony Hopkins playing the role of Lewis. Someday I will show it.

The truth is that I do not regret anything to repeat again and again to visit this beautiful campus. He has the gift of charm you.

The first photograph is the Addison Road so special for these great friends creators of fantasy worlds ...