Saturday, May 9, 2009

Mortal Kombat Nudities



Hello everyone: My name is Elena and I am an architect.
But do not think the "real" creative architect who dresses in black, he spends his nights ago to draw and render with the Rhinoceros.
No, my love is restored, the old walls, the plaster wall a little faded and peeling.
I love the minor architecture, the genius of the Gothic cathedrals, houses stacked one on top of Siena and Assisi, the narrow stone-paved streets. I love the trompe l'oil
doors and windows, fake medieval tapestries, the ceilings with wooden beams, the painted facades, wrought-iron grates.
I do not like postmodernism, the terraced houses On the outskirts, houses the violent unlikely colors.
Of all this I want to talk, so I created my blog: Why this immense wealth, of which the walls of every city shall keep a record, to look and look, fade and are lost every year that passes, and is lost forever .

Wednesday, December 6, 2006

Can I Take Subutex With Vicodin?

Slow Dance

SLOW DANCE (*)

Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask how are you?
Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done!
Do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores
running through your head?
You'd better slow down
don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

Ever told your child, we'll do it tomorrow?
And in your haste, not see his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die
cause you never had time to call and say, "Hi"
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.

When you run so fast to get somewhere
you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day,
it is like an unopened gift.... thrown away.

Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
hear the music
before the song is over.

*This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital

thanks her in your way I pray

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really want to know when you love deeply
Leonardo da Vinci