The other day while talking with my close friend I noticed how angry I am, how I always keep on making excuses on those whom hurt me and I keep blaming me for all the mess, when the whole mess is not mine, part of it yes, so why to think is all my fault as if I were some kind of idiotic masoquist when I'm not ?. There was a time when I used to trust, not so long ago. Now, when I can't do it she comes, my beautiful bird, giving me all those nice things people should give and people should receive. Her hands are full and mine are empty and still she's so kind and patient. I feel like one monster myself, rotten inside.
The drawing is about that, about me yearning to trust, to feel again, to let others fill my hands with kisses and music, images, love, but also leaving things behind and not drag them into new places.
I think that my moleskine should look messier after all this time. I started to write on it on July last year. Wow ! I haven't read all those pages, I never do. Maybe when I get older I'll do it and it would be something great to do. Is amazing how is not a big thing, I mean, I didn't write that much on it, that's why it took me almost a year. As now I write more next journal will go quicker than this one
And fot this days of flu...
yes, I do wear it on the streets, but I try not to go out if I don't have to. Some friends told me I'm paranoic, maybe.
My camarada Benjamin told me the other day I should take a photo with that thing, but I forgot to add the smile on it >.<