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Sincerity in the mirror

L or worse

is not memory loss,

but my last

not remember me.

Other Concerns - Luis García Montero

E n this post I will not talk about my children, but her mother or rather of the buried woman who has become invisible under the "mother."

And suddenly I'm not that. Many years yet lives hanging by a thread, so many months without taking your eyes of my children that I lack eyes because I was always missing something, and when I look up I am with you.

Offhand unannounced show, I look up, my eyes tired and I do not believe it is not possible ...

My engine internal search a review recognition and authentication. If you are, no doubt or escape.

In front and suddenly I've seen in the mirror of your eyes cruel, violent, treacherous and scrutinizing blank your eyes fixed, the eyes of the past that kept women in their retina that one day I went ... when I thought beautiful.

Wear hair up to hide it, for lack of time until Saturday I can not go to retouch these gray cookies to certify my age and strive to hover insistent plating my forehead and my face so quickly that every time I find it harder to hide them ...

If hide ... because they are like a banner cruel passage of time I wither and deform me much more cruel that the wrinkles ... it clear that I have and each day a little more pronounced. The oval of her face like so many things in my body is giving way to gravity, and inch by inch I'm fading away.

Subtle curves and small waist have grown old with me, moving its evocative descriptions by less delicate and short antonyms and even my small chest in a display of harmonizing my new forms has decided to increase a size, always wanted to have this size but now in this new old body and I do not like.

Standing and forehead with this cruel reflection of me. A treason and stripped of makeup or lip rouge or a bad stroke of blush, even a touch of mascara or having amended the first line of kohl pencil.

Hasty as usual this morning after showering I got dressed fast, too much to stop now look at me as a tyrant in the mirror that reflects what you've come to see and point-blank surprise and who no longer cares about the protocols, and with a reproachful tone reminded me about the age of fifty ... unworthy of you of who you were before, when I was that.

For pity me remind you that no, it will still be 48 when that meeting as saying that after tomorrow, but the image of disapproval to give me back my statement into exile, the eviction of the youth gardens of Don still believed to live in one of the last corners.

The curtain fell and he raised their migratory flight forever that sweet bird of youth.

Today and forever lost that streetcar named desire, I have been deported to the country of transit, that no man's land where we are still not old but certainly not young, but perhaps invisible. A place for those who feel in-like I feel today, I've lost my youth capital, my fortune, I inherited and the one you love with diets and gave careful attention when any great benefits and even splurged not , finished my time to treasure.

now and forever youthful feel like I'm ruined.

The eviction took her letter written on your face when you disappeared in the mirror and I was not, was that they just admit, that it takes time looking in the mirror, when I looked askance for not realizing what was going on: the embezzlement that life was carrying on my physical assets.

suddenly in the mirror at me in front of which I've seen without makeup, with my thousand sleepless nights and a day, and I think that age and finally, after many struggles I've won the game.

And okay, I'll have to accept what I have. Abandonment count my possessions, my flow of youth. It is useless to continue covering the life when life has just given me such a review.

But then to go out of my new self conscious, turned into a real person without arrogance or fantasies of loopholes in bloom, looking obsessively time makes known the people I meet but time and life is not equal for all and as a lifeguard echo the words of a wise friend in medicine who recently told me that in these years I've lived not one but two or three lives at once.

So many things have happened! And now it seems that every one had passed over me.

traveled many paths like grooves in my skin.

had to be banned explicit eyes, those who suddenly get shot point blank and the last glimmer arrebatándote blue illusion that you were going left of saving with your memories of those times when you thought you princess.

-reflection may enemy, if you were here 5 years ago or 5 kilos, if you had warned were coming, cruel mature now I look at it from the other side as a ghost would have been able to return to deceive you with tricks and accessories for women. But you caught me by surprise and suddenly the light of day, in a decisive moment and I always become a princess in Cinderella.

One morning

The years speak much,

and lie more than talk.

But one day they wake up bottomless

with sincerity in the mirror,

and say what they know without knowing what they say.

Never mind the wrinkles.

I refer to another kind of show

more sordid, cruel

human humiliation,

derangement Finally

between form and content.

Although they are coming,

suddenly understand why

of dawn supported

body along with discussions.

I speak to you

the beautiful faces

cold and physicians.

On the outskirts of privacy

sad that hurts the grass begins in the ruins.

Aging

is a job search

in a difficult melodrama

that no conviction.

sometimes get,

but we must devote even time

which is not available.

you better, repeat the greeting.

Lost Desires

working within us,

as filmmakers who prefer

assurance a happy ending

and young stars.

Eyestrain the book of Luis García Montero.

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N acho takes pachuco and bad cough a few days and today I have given to entertain a "marathon" cartoon on YouTube, and we were having a great time with little I imitation Pato, Eli, Lula and his contagious laughter, then as the Nacho attention would dissipate occurred to me to find a classic story and have left the three little pigs.

"No mom, that's not I like .. this ..

He says with his tongue still half cloth and points to the screen on the right: "the ugly duckling."

"This mom.

P incho and do not know if I am sensitized or more per this time and otherwise the story touched my heart ...

A efore this Cuen to know that all I talked about a being who was out of place, we do not know why strange reason came from an egg from another litter that had gone to the nest of ducks. Different left and did his "You're supposed own mother e-understood.

BUP remember in modern philosophy professor used this story to talk about people "different" than in the eighties was recently released as they were understood to those with a different sexual orientation to the conventional.

C on my sincere respect for all people, have the sexual preference they have, I formed in some way the idea of \u200b\u200bhomosexual released (as they say now "out of the gun River") as the ugly duckling turned into beautiful swan, gray man tormented ai mponente drag queen, and was even convinced that it must be the reason for which it was said that u Gay No man had pen.

That was in my teens and I do not get me wrong, porq ue I tried to tell this episode without hurt feelings.

Today socially standardized overcome those prejudices and sexual choices of each, - and not racial issues, "I think this story serves well to explain a very fashionable concept: it is a story on "diversity."

Well, with my son next Kazakh I saw another story, of course it all ties in about a problem of "identity" and acceptance of difference, but I've seen through the eyes of my children a duckling to its mother did not want, and desperately searching for a mother who would eventually found a family that accepted him and clothed him and he looked so happy ... well ...

So the same story, as the colors of those who spoke in another post, can be interpreted in many ways.

Now in my personal situation and q ue tear tabs hung my son while watching the movie stuck in the guts, the same story speaks to me resilience, the ability of our children to recover from their bad experiences to overcome and leave behind the emotional pain that life had.

And is that, for example, the Nacho laugh when he runs to the stripping to getting caught in the park, makes me forget that she fell patosillo just leave it standing for lack of strength in his legs due to a null stimulation and when I look and I see no glimmer of resentment toward life is as if he knows that now is the place to which it belongs.

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The Ugly Duckling Father's Day March 19, 2011

S and lifted the day and my head with a thick fog as the sun was heating was dissipated, the nebula that thickened my thoughts too.

As it was Saturday, the day was p laneado as fun continues: Puppet morning at the municipal library and a restaurant meal in afternoon stroll.

As for work could not go to the puppet show with children it fell to Eduardo but before they were searched for the video of the puppet that appears in the movie sound of music and both liked that I did to repeat it thrice.

gave me so jealous they can not go with them to puppets!, Is bad for my work that can not be replaced Eduardo .

For lunch we decided to go to a restaurant close to home where food is usually very good, but not the service as mistake after mistake they let more than three quarters of an hour between the first and second course and when we call attention to this letter brought us the dessert!

ask the account, as listless and went without eating the main course ...

went down to take a dessert h till the beach where the thick fog, but retreating, still suspended over a sea quite calm, without waves or even satin waves, just like a lake than a sea, a pool of some liquid gelatin and steam vats of low clouds that blotted out the horizon my I moved away imagination Loch Ness, and I had not missed anything a striped tail s had urged that strange fluid that seemed the sea.

my imagination ... I know, always running, trying to decipher what is perceived, playing with images and words, sometimes with trying to interpret music emotions that cause me things ...

Imagination is a country where things are different ent, are not always how you want them there either but with a little luck you can redraw things as they happen ... happen because there is no truth but then, things of the imagination are like colors, not really there and see them only exist because of us that we've given them names.

Diana, my daughter lives constantly on either side of the mirror, as happened to me, "good-guess even happens to me a very happy childhood did not help to enhance this ability or vice versa The fact is that no matter the reason if the result is being able to experience things as a witness and interpreter, as they are or inventártelas see how you want to be.

this summer visiting a castle began to get bored and then I asked if I believed that this castle had princesses really ... when I said that was in the distant past, not much seemed to like my answer then asked by the fairies - as we all know that live everywhere, but can only be seen in some special places. A moment after I question the sun reflected on my ring light bounced for a second as a spark in the wall of one of the battlements, where we were going to get very excited and said:

- Did you see that mom?

"If Diana ... shhhh ... do not discover it ... you know what is true?

-Si mamá es un hada…¡si que son pequeñitas!

Y ya toda la visita fue para ella mucho más entretenida mirando por los rincones, por las rendijas y las grietas.

D iana y yo tenemos una complicidad especial en el tema del mundo de la fantasía y he descubierto que además es muy útil para hacer más llevaderos incluso interesantes otros temas menos divertidos, como la música clásica.

Cuando vamos en el coche a veces le pido que me describa de que se trata o que cuenta la música it sounds and we have two new genera perfectly cataloged classical music: the genre of fairies and princesses of .

Now I'm even going alone decipher the notes and instruments to see which of the two genera belong.

But of course our fantasies are different players, while I think of medieval princesses for her the archetype is more like Barbies and Rampunceles and as for fairies, and although we both like Disney's Tinkerbell, she would prefer the Winx.

generational Problems?

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painting, literature and history.

I just received the invitation and the book "A Chinese Tale" by John Living. A book accompanying an exhibition or an exhibition that accompanies a book that will be in March and April at the Library of Andalusia in Granada.

already Juan Manuel Bonet said that it "was a literary artist" ... now maybe more than ever.

The book is illustrated with pictures from the exhibition and is the story of the meeting in China with Julia Shan and the arrival of his daughter to life and the painter's house, which meant no doubt a radical change, a before and after. How life changes when she suddenly fills your future but also the arrival inevitably connects you to your past and makes you a parent yet returned to the child you were ... and sometimes even pays you back real son, not the one you invented in your memories, but I really went because now you see from the angle of son and father and completes the picture and complete many questions that remained open. know by Alvaro Salvador, which supports this project with the poem "The lineage of blackbirds" - Antonio Jiménez Millán, another poet who works in the book with his "Three ink sketches in China" - and John Life China had adopted and that her daughters were very happy.
Today I received this book I talk about a story written with red thread, a common story for my kids feel with oriental features Urumuqi neighbors, but also played as close to me because the book talks about the Granada of my memories ... ... and is full of collaborations signed with names full of fond memories of distant exhibition with paintings of palm trees and painting awards for painters and writers of poetry and I felt part of it all, by knowing about and accompany them on many talk shows and in some celebration and throughout the time that has past and have continued to achieve successes each other I felt proud of each one as if my loved ones are treated.

been almost thirty years since these names are meaningful to me and now sharing my story again and again history all very sorry nearby.

http://www.granadablogs.com/juanvida/